


Love You Better

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 73,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: On an unassuming afternoon, tragedy strikes April and Matthew’s tumultuous marriage. Sent reeling, April is left not only with a biological child, but one she has raised as her own - now without a father.The Taylor family doesn’t plan on making this easy for April, a newly-single mother of two. She’s felt alone before, but never like this.Luckily, she still has her best friend by her side - Jackson, as always.What will come of the newfound family she can’t bear to part with? Sparks fly, old relationships renew, and unexpected surprises wait around every corner.





	1. Chapter 1

**APRIL**

In typical Seattle fashion, it’s raining when I wake up. 

I open my eyes to a window propped open, though I swear I asked Matthew to close it before he laid down. I must have fallen asleep before he did, and it slipped his mind. I was bone-tired last night, and barely had time to say goodnight before I was out.

I feel refreshed now, though. I stretch my legs out straight and make a little sound to go with, then blink at the ceiling for a few beats before moving anywhere. I’m up before the alarm, so I don’t have to rush.

I hear the kids’ voices from down the hall, talking quietly in their shared room. Harriet is five, and Ruby Saige, three. She goes by Saige now - ever since Matthew’s ex-wife died, he didn’t want her called a name they had picked together. Her middle name, Saige, had been his idea, not Karen’s. Ruby reminded him too much of a past that still stings. 

“Sissy, no, no, no,” Harriet says. “You’re not big enough for the top bunk. You’ll fall off and bump your head.” 

“I get a owie?” Saige asks, in her adorable little voice. 

“Yeah,” Harriet answers. “And that’s bad. That’s why you gotta be on the bottom bunk ‘til you’re six.” 

I chuckle to myself and roll to face my husband. He’s still sound asleep, wearing a frown and a heavy expression. Whatever he’s dreaming about must not be anything good. 

He doesn’t like to be woken up in the morning, not by me and not by an alarm. He’s always grumpy, no matter what. So, I keep my hands to myself. Let him get angry with the alarm clock instead. 

I run my fingers through my hair and consider the day ahead. It shouldn’t be too hectic; I can’t think of anything pressing waiting for me at the moment, which is a soothing thought.

I debate closing my eyes again and sleeping for a few more cherished minutes when Matthew stirs. It’s rare that he awakens before the clock, so I turn over and watch his face to see what mood he might be in today. With this new turn of events, it might be a good one. 

“Morning,” I say, right when he looks at me. I offer a smile, and he closes his eyes in return, raising his eyebrows with a stretch.

“Hey,” he says, yawning. 

“You’re up early,” I notice. 

“Don’t know why,” he says. “I didn’t sleep well.” 

“Oh,” I say. “Why’s that?” 

“You were all over me,” he says. “Kicking. I told you, Ambien will help with those dreams you’re having.”

“I don’t have any trouble sleeping,” I say. “There’s no reason to take it.”   


“Your dreams are crazy,” he says. “You never stop twitching or moving around. You keep me up.” 

I sigh. “Maybe I’m going through something.” 

“Are you?” he asks, pointedly. 

“I don’t know,” I say. “I meant that maybe my subconscious is dealing with something.” 

“How would that happen without you knowing about it?” he asks incredulously, eyebrows tilted in a way that tells me he thinks it’s stupid. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Forget I said it,” I say. “Next time I wake you up, just shake me. I can move to the couch.” 

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch,” he says. “Married people sleep together.” 

“Well, I don’t want to keep you up every night,” I say. “That’s not fair to you.” 

“Take the Ambien, then,” he says. “Compromise. I still get to sleep with you, and you calm down and stop dreaming.” 

I don’t bother responding. It’s clear we’re not going to agree, and it’s not worth the push without an outcome. As usual, we’ll go in circles for hours, days, weeks, until someone gives in. Usually, that someone is me. 

The girls’ voices float in as a quiet moment passes over.

“Is it scary sleeping by yourself in here when I go to my daddy’s?” Harriet asks, still conversing with her stepsister. 

“Sometimes,” Saige answers. 

“Why sometimes?”

“Sometimes, I go get Mama,” Saige says. 

“If you have a bad dream?” 

“Yeah. Then I sleep with her and Dada.” 

“My daddy lets me sleep in his bed, too,” Harriet says, a bit boastfully. 

I knew that. Jackson is a sucker for his little girl, and he lets her do just about anything within reason. She made his heart soft when she came into this world; he’ll go to great lengths to make her happy. And she gets her love of snuggles from him, so it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that he still lets her sneak into his bed. 

“I’m going there tonight. So, I won’t be here after school, okay? Don’t be scared. I’ll be back on Sunday after dinner.” 

“I won’t be scared.” 

Matthew lets out a long sigh; it sounds like he’s at his wits’ end. I look over with concern and see him massaging his temples, shaking his head while he does. 

“What?” I ask. 

He shakes his head some more. “I can’t stand it when she talks like that.” 

“What?” I say again, missing the point. 

“Harriet,” he says, emphasizing her name. “It gets on my last nerve when she talks about her other life to Saige.”

“What do you mean, ‘her other life?’” I ask, grating. 

“The one with your ex,” he says. 

“You mean her father,” I correct, eyes narrowing. “She’s not allowed to talk about her father? What’s wrong with that?” 

“She alienates herself from this family when she does it,” he says simply, like he’s stating a fact. “It sets her apart. When she wants to be different, she pulls the Jackson card.” 

“Okay,” I say, sitting up with wide eyes. “You are totally off-base. You know you’re talking about a five-year-old, right? A little girl who, I don’t know, just happens to love her dad?” 

“It’s not that,” he says. “She rubs it in Saige’s face.” 

“Rubs what?” I say, eyebrows lowering. “What does she have that Saige should be jealous of? Parents who are divorced?” 

“Both parents that are still alive,” he says, and I recoil. 

“You don’t have to insult Harriet to say you miss Karen,” I tell him. 

“I’m not,” he says. “I don’t. Well, of course I do. But that’s not where that thought came from.”

“Too bad,” I say, getting up. “Because it might have been somewhat excusable if it was.” 

I walk into the girls’ bedroom in my soft pajama pants and t-shirt, peeking my head around the corner to look at them before they know I’m there. Both of them are sitting on the bottom bunk, Saige’s bed, backs leaned against the wall with their knees bent. They’re still talking, albeit quieter, looking very seriously into one another’s faces. 

I smile to myself and then say, “Good morning, my babies.” 

They both look up in happy surprise. “Mama!” they chorus. 

I walk in the room and they bombard me with hugs, little arms wrapped around my neck and legs around my waist, too. “Oh, goodness,” I say. “You guys are getting too big for me to do this.” 

But I do it anyway. I pick them up, both at the same time, and laugh as they cling to me. 

“What are we gonna wear today, my ladies?” I ask. “It’s pretty rainy out. So, rain boots are definitely a must.” 

“I’m wearing a dress!” Harriet announces, wriggling to be put down. 

“Me, too!” Saige says. “Me, too! Me, too!” 

“Alright,” I say. “Head to the closet. I’ll help you with tights once you find them.”

They giggle together once they go inside their small walk-in, and I wait on a beanbag on the floor of their bedroom. Harriet comes out first, carting a checkered dress with long sleeves and white tights - one of her favorite combinations. It gets worn at least twice a week.

“Great, lovebug,” I say. “Sit down and we’ll get those feets into these tights.” 

She giggles at my use of words and lies flat on her back, assisting me by shoving her feet into the cloth tights. There’s an animal face on the butt, as well as the feet. They’re precious, but pretty soon they won’t be long enough for her anymore. She’s been growing like a weed. 

“Tell Daddy he needs to take you shopping for new clothes,” I say, as she stands. “You’re getting too tall.” 

Saige comes out next, holding a light pink dress with polka-dotted tights. The two don’t come close to matching, but it doesn’t really matter. “We go shopping, too?” she asks. 

“We can,” I say. 

“I wanna go with you guys,” Harriet says, a bit whiny. 

“Come here, beanie,” I say to Saige, beckoning her with one hand. “Let me help you into those.” I look back to Harriet. “What’s wrong with Daddy taking you? You know he loves to shop.” 

“Yeah, but he only likes boy stores,” she says. “He always wants to buy me sneakers and zip-up outfits. Not fun stuff.” 

I snort. It was always Jackson’s dream to dress our child like a mini version of himself. 

“I’ll talk to him, lovey,” I say. “Don’t worry.” 

…

We pull up in front of the school where the drop-off is, and Harriet opens her door so they both can slide out. I turn around in my seat and look at them, touching my cheek with my pointer finger so they’ll both drop a kiss there. And as usual, they do. 

“Bye, mama,” Saige says. “Bye, dada.” 

“Bye-bye, honey,” Matthew says, shooting her a smile in the rearview mirror.

“Bye, baby,” I say. “We’ll be here to pick you up like usual after school. And you,” I say, raising my eyebrows and pointing to Harriet, who’s smiling. “You know who’s coming to get you.”

“Daddy!” she sings.

“Yes,” I say. “Be good. We’ll see you Sunday.” 

“Mama,” she says, urgently and seriously. “ _ Don’t  _ forget to tell him about shopping.” 

“I won’t,” I say. “Promise. Have a good day, you two. I love you!” 

“Love you, mama!” they call, shutting the back door and bounding towards the school with backpacks bouncing against their backs. 

I turn around in the passenger’s seat as the car starts to move, pulling out my phone as I do. Matthew doesn’t make any attempts at conversation and didn’t say a peep while the girls were in the car, so I don’t see a reason not to call Jackson right now. 

Luckily, he answers on the second ring. Most of the time, he’s not great at picking up the phone and does better with texting. But today, I wanted to talk - if only for a second. 

“What’s up?” he says, casually. 

“Hey,” I respond, a habitual smile on my face. “It’s me.”

“I know,” he says, a laugh in his voice. “Contrary to popular belief, I have this number saved. And come on, you think I don’t know that voice after a million years?” 

I chuckle to myself. “Right,” I say. “I wanted to call and talk to you about this weekend. You know you’ve got Hattie, right?” 

“Yes, April,” he says. 

I roll my eyes lightly. “Just making sure. She really needs new clothes, and I was hoping you could take her shopping.” 

“No problem,” he says. “Yeah, of course.” 

“She specifically told me she doesn’t want to go to ‘boring stores,’” I say. “She called you out on your love of sneakers and tracksuits.”

He laughs, loud and boisterous. I knew that would get him. “Ah, shit,” he says. “Damn it. She’s getting too old. I should take Saige off your hands instead. She’s little, she’d probably still let me dress her.” 

“She would,” I say, smiling. “But yeah. Hattie is really into dresses at the moment, so take her to Gap Kids or something. Target has good stuff, too.” 

“April,” he groans. “Target? Come on.”

“I don’t want you spending hundreds of dollars on our five-year-old’s wardrobe,” I say. “She goes through clothes like nobody’s business. Target is cute and affordable. Just trust me on this, oh ye of little faith.” 

“Don’t get all churchy on me, church girl,” he says. “Me and Hats will go shopping. She’ll stay fly if I have anything to say about it. Thanks for the heads-up.” 

“Uh-huh,” I say. “Alright. See you Sunday.” 

“Gotcha.” 

I hang up the phone and slip it inside my purse, and Matthew is somehow pricklier than before. With furrowed eyebrows, I look over to try to read his face, and his jaw is set as he faces forward and grips the steering wheel with both hands.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask, resting an elbow on the window ledge. 

He rolls his eyes quickly, so quick I almost miss it. “Nothing, just the fact that you talk to him like you’re still married.” 

“What?” I say. “Who, Jackson?” 

He widens his eyes in a sarcastic manner and says, “Yeah, who else?” 

“No, I do not,” I say. “I talk to him like he’s Harriet’s father, which he is. And I don’t know what’s up with you trying to erase that. It’s not my life anymore, and I don’t want it to be. But there’s no reason to erase it.” 

“Whenever you talk to him, or talk about him, you’re so buddy-buddy,” he says. “Do you sound like that when you talk about me?” 

“I don’t understand where this is coming from,” I say. “Why does it matter? Jackson is my friend. He’s been my friend for years; it’s not like that’s just going to stop because you’re insecure.”

“I didn’t say anything about being insecure.” 

“You didn’t have to,” I note. 

He’s quiet for a minute before blowing up again after the light turns green. “You don’t see me sitting here talking about Karen like I wish she was still here!” 

I frown. “Well, do you?” 

He’s quiet for a minute. “Are you saying do I wish my wife hadn’t died? Of course. That’s Saige’s mother.” 

“I don’t mean it like that,” I insist. “Would you rather be married to her right now? Is that what you’re implying?” 

“Are  _ you _ implying you’d rather be married to Jackson?” 

I take a deep breath, frustrated with his refusal to comply with the conversation. It always has to be a battle. “If I wanted to, I already would be,” I say, very slowly as I try to convince him. “But if Karen were still alive, you wouldn’t be with me. Simple as that.” 

“Don’t put it like that,” he says. “God brought you and I together again.” 

“And I think that, too,” I say. “So, why are you convinced that I want to restart a life with Jackson? He’s my friend. He was my everything for years. You should know how that feels - it doesn’t just go away.” 

“Except when it does,” he says. 

I don’t miss a beat. “Our situations are different. Jackson is still alive, and he’ll always be a part of my life. You knew that when you married me. I won’t apologize for it. I won’t apologize that Harriet still has a relationship with her father. I just won’t.” We’re both quiet for a moment, staring out the windshield. “We should probably bring this up in therapy on Monday.”

“Probably.” 

We finish the drive with no resolution. Unfortunately, that’s how things usually go around here. There’s no tie-up, no fix, one of us just gets tired of fighting and concedes. There’s a lot of agreeing to disagree. Except without the agreeing. 

We never fight around the kids, at least. It’s not always happy and shiny, but we keep it civil. We don’t scream or throw things, I don’t cry and he doesn’t storm off in a fit of rage while they’re present. If we need to get through an issue, we wait until they’re asleep. The last thing I want is for them to be affected by our rocky marriage. 

I think about the same thing almost every day: did we rush into it? Was it staged, forced, and too-soon, just like the first time? Was it the right choice to say yes, or should I have thought it over first?

Do I really love him? Did I ever?

When those thoughts sneak into my mind, they’re always partnered with guilt. I shouldn’t be thinking such derogatory thoughts about my own marriage, the marriage that glued together our kids who adore one another. Harriet and Saige are blood sisters as far as they’re concerned - Harriet barely remembers her life from before, and Saige doesn’t at all. All she’s ever known is Harriet by her side, and that warms my heart over anything.

I make it through the work day absently with my mind stuck on the argument from this morning. I go through the motions; smile when I should, treat people with cordial kindness, but when the day is finally over, I couldn’t be more thankful. 

Matthew and I pick Saige up from school together, parking the car so we can stay at the playground for a bit while she plays. She’s wearing a big smile, holding her teacher’s hand while coming out of the doors, and I wave excitedly. 

“Hi, Saigey!” I squeal, enveloping her in a big hug. I kiss the side of her head - she smells just like Harriet - and look up at the teacher. “How was she today?” 

“Perfect,” Miss Katie says. “Did you tell Mom about the maps we colored?” 

“I colored the whole world!” she announces.

I gasp playfully. “The whole thing?” I say. She nods. “I can’t wait to see. You’ll have to show me when we get home. You wanna go play on the playground for a while, beanie?”

She nods and rockets off towards her friends who are already there. Matthew and I walk slow; I have the urge to slip my hand into his, but I resist. I don’t know what I’d do if he denied it, and I’d rather not try at all then feel rejected. 

We sit on a bench and watch Saige play with a couple other girls for a while without saying much. He buys her an ice cream cone, and it drips all down the front of her dress, which makes her giggle. When it’s time to go home, it’s nearly dinnertime and she’s already talking about what movie she’ll pick tonight. 

“It’s bath time first, little miss,” I say, and she doesn’t put up a fight. 

When she and Harriet are together as a united front, baths can be torture. But when they’re alone, it’s not so bad. Thinking about her makes me wonder how Harriet is doing with Jackson tonight, but per Matthew’s outburst earlier, I don’t call or text to check in. If she misses me, she’ll contact me. And Jackson is perfectly capable of taking care of her on his own. 

When we get home, Matthew is still brooding. I’ve given up trying to knock down that wall and get through to him; instead, I let him fester. When he wants to talk, he will. It’s not my job to thaw him out. I’m tired of it. 

“I’m gonna get this one in the bath, then we can order a pizza and pop a movie in?” I say, hitching Saige on my hip as we walk in the door. 

“Whatever you want,” he says. “I have some calls to make. I probably won’t join you.” 

“But Daddy,” Saige says. “You have to. You always do.” 

“It’s family movie night,” I say, a bit confused. I’m not sure what the ‘calls’ he has to make could possible be about. It’s a strange excuse. 

“I know,” he says. “I’m just not feeling up to it tonight. I’ll be in the office.” 

He walks away, leaving Saige and I stunned in his wake. We watch his back until he disappears, then she turns towards me - our faces just inches apart. I’m so close, I can clearly see her crystal blue eyes, mile-long eyelashes, and wispy blonde eyebrows. 

“Where’s Daddy going?” she asks. 

“He has to do some work, I think. So, just me and you are gonna have movie night. How’s that sound?” 

She smiles. “We can watch Barbie ‘cause Daddy doesn’t like Barbie!” 

“Perfect,” I say. “Let’s make our bath super quick.” 

Of course, the bath doesn’t go quick. Neither of my girls know what fast bathing means, so I end up sitting on the floor by the tub while Saige plays in the water and splashes around with her toys, telling me stories I can’t begin to keep up with. I try, though, nodding along and encouraging her plotlines with interest.

While her hair is shampooed and up in a big, sudsy spike atop her head, Matthew peeks his head in the bathroom. “I’m going out,” he says. 

“Where?” I ask, totally confused. 

“I’ll be back later. Just out for a ride.” 

He starts to walk away and I scramble to my feet, following him while standing in the doorway with my back to Saige. “Matthew,” I hiss. “Are you going out on the motorcycle?” 

He sighs deeply. “I need to clear my head.” 

“Take the car then,” I say. “Don’t take that thing. You know how I feel about it.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “But I need something for myself around here, and that’s all I got right now.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “I’ll be back in a while. Might be late, depending on where I stop. Don’t wait up.”

“Matthew,” I urge. “God, just talk to me. Why are you acting like this?” 

“Everything will be fine once you give me some damn breathing room!” he says, shooting me a nasty glare. “This is what I need to do, or else I’m gonna explode. So, I’m going.” 

I have no words left. Nothing I say will stop him, so I have to let him go. As he begins to descend the stairs, I turn back around after painting a hard smile on my face and rejoin Saige in the bathroom.

“What Daddy said?” she asks. 

I pick up a cup and fill it with water, signaling for her to tip her head back. “Just that he’s gonna go see some friends,” I say. “So us girls get the whole house to ourselves.” 

…

I put Saige to bed by myself tonight, lying next to her on the bottom bunk while using one hand to support my head and the other to tickle her arm. Her eyelids are heavy as she blinks those blues at me, a soft smile on her lips. 

“Whatcha smilin’ about?” I ask, nuzzling her temple with the tip of my nose. 

“I’m flying,” she whispers, voice slurred with sleep. “Fairy wings.” 

She’s already in a dream. My heart swells with warmth for my daughter as I kiss the round of her cheek and linger there for a moment, breathing in her clean, sweet scent. 

“I love you, beanie boo,” I say. “I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

She doesn’t get a chance to say it back before she’s fully asleep, mouth open and eyes shut. I lie in bed with her for a little while longer before gently crawling out, turning off the light, and heading down the stairs where I expect to see Matthew, but I don’t. 

The house is quiet and empty, save for me and the little one sleeping upstairs. I glance at the clock and discover it isn’t even 9; I have no reason to be worried. It just feels later. It always does when there are kids to put to bed. When they’re sleepy, so am I. It’s contagious.

I turn on the TV and pour myself a half glass of wine. Matthew doesn’t like to spend money on the expensive stuff that I got used to, and I’m not a huge fan of the grocery store brands. Still, though, I stomach it for the calm it’ll bring me. It’s worth that much. 

I switch between shows for a few hours, getting lost in a movie after a while. I finish my wine and, once I set the empty goblet on the coffee table and relax, it’s lights out for me. My head lolls to the side and my eyes drift shut, and I miss the end of the movie I’d been so interested in. 

I’m awoken some time later by the brash sound of the phone ringing. I squint against the light in the living room and the sound still coming from the TV and sit up, neck aching. I’m too old to fall asleep like that anymore.

“Who is it?” I call out, still half-gone. I shake my head a bit to wake myself up, and the ringing stops only to start again.

I stand up and rub my eyes, trying to find where I left the thing. I eventually find it on the kitchen island next to the fruit bowl, and stare at the screen with a number I don’t recognize flashing across it. The ringing stops again, light fading right in front of my face, before starting for a third time. This time, I don’t wait to answer. It’s obvious whoever’s on the other end isn’t going to stop. 

“Hello?” I answer, eyebrows up in attempt to wake myself. 

“Is this April Kepner speaking?” 

“This is she,” I say, brain clearing as the person sounds serious and urgent. “Who’s this?” 

“Kepner, it’s Bailey. You need to get down here now.” 

“What?” I say, flashing back to getting paged in the middle of the night when I worked there. For a fleeting moment, I can’t help but wonder if I’m dreaming. I pinch myself just to make sure. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s an emergency,” Bailey says. “It’s Taylor. He’s…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. “You just need to get down here.” 

My stomach drops and I almost lose the phone. I tighten my grip before it can drop, though, and hold it with both hands. “Wh-what?” I say. “What happened?” 

“We’ll tell you everything when you get here,” she says. “Avery’s here. Everyone’s here. You just need to come as quick as you can.” 

“O-okay,” I say, then hang up. For a static moment, I just stand there in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the kids’ drawings on the fridge. They were made with fingerpaint, both equally colorful and sloppy. I can remember the day they were crafted so clearly, but suddenly can’t remember the way to Grey Sloan. 

I fall forward so my hands hit the island and support my weight. I breathe heavily, staring at the grains in the wood, and let my jaw hang open. This can’t be happening. I told him not to go out on the motorcycle. That thing is definitely going on Craigslist as soon as he’s better, no questions asked. 

I feel like I might throw up. I have no choice but to wake Saige up and bring her with me; I can’t leave her here alone and my mind is too cloudy to think of anyone to call. So, I shove my rain boots on and head up the stairs in my pajamas - no bra - and burst into my daughter’s room, followed by the squishy sounds of my galoshes. 

“Honey,” I say. “Honey, wake up.”

I shake her shoulders slightly as she rises to the surface. She squints through the darkness while wearing a confused expression, reaching to wrap her arms around my neck. “Mama?” she rasps.

“We gotta go, babe,” I say, scooping her out of bed without bothering to change her clothes, either. I get downstairs and grab my purse, and it’s only once we’re in the car that I notice I forgot to put shoes on her. She’s in button-up pajamas and socks, that’s it. 

“Mama?” she peeps from her carseat, bedhead crazy. “Mama, what are we doing?” 

She rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands and watches me with fear in them. “Just go back to sleep, sweetie,” I say, backing out of the driveway. 

“But I’m too scared.”

“I know,” I say. “We just have to go somewhere, don’t be scared. I promise, everything is okay.” 

She chews on her fingers, something she always does when she’s nervous, and looks out the window with wide, round eyes. She doesn’t ask any more questions, and I’m glad. Because I don’t have any more answers.

I park haphazardly and scoop Saige out of her car seat when we get there; she’s fallen back to sleep and is limp and heavy in my arms, so I tote her with a hand braced on the back of her head as we hurry inside. 

I’m met with harsh lights once I go through the doors that are still so familiar, and my daughter stirs on my chest, tightening her legs around my waist. “Mama…” she groans, pushing her face into my neck. 

“I know, baby,” I say, absently. 

I’m just about to call out for someone when I see the best face I could possibly see - Jackson’s. He comes around the corner, wide-eyed and shaken, and stares me down. He hurries towards us and just stands there for a moment, not saying a thing, before I speak. 

“What’s going on?” I ask, hitching Saige higher as she’d begun to droop. “Is it bad? Is he okay?”  

“It’s….” he begins, but doesn’t finish. It doesn’t seem like he can. “I need to bring you to Bailey. She’s on the case, not me.” 

He leads me by the small of my back through the halls like I don’t have them memorized, keeping me close like I might do something rash. 

“Just tell me what happened,” I say. 

He looks at me and shakes his head. My stomach churns and twists with a sickening feeling; I know that look in his eyes. I know him better than anyone else, and I can tell that whatever news I’m about to be met with isn’t pretty. 

When we find Bailey, she’s standing in the middle of the hall without a lab coat on. I stop dead in my tracks too far away from her, frozen in place, unable to take a step forward. 

“April,” Jackson says. “Let me take Saige.” 

I look up at him, desperation in my eyes. I rub Saige’s back and wake her, and when I set her down, she wobbles from how sleepy she is. Jackson takes her hand and leads her away, leads her out of range from whatever life-altering news I’m about to receive about her father. 

“Kepner,” Bailey says, walking closer instead of forcing me to move. “April.” 

“Bailey, don’t,” I say, trembling and shaking my head. “Whatever you’re about to say…”

“We should sit,” she says, leading me much in the way Jackson had towards an empty group of chairs. I fall into one like I’ve been on my feet for hours, suddenly beyond exhausted, and lean forward with my face in my hands. She keeps a hand on my back, in the middle of my spine, as she talks. “He was in a bad crash,” she says. “A sharp curve, the road was wet, he hit a tree. He wasn’t wearing a helmet.” 

My mouth drops open as I let my eyes flutter shut, all the breath stolen from me. “Oh, my god,” I murmur, then lift my head. “Is he okay?” 

She meets my eyes with a solemn expression and slowly reaches to squeeze my hand. “He didn’t make it,” she tells me. “He went quickly, though. He probably didn’t feel any pain. He didn’t suffer.”

I stare at her for a long moment, wondering how this could be happening. It can’t be. It doesn’t make sense. Just a few hours ago, Matthew and I were talking outside the bathroom. And before that, we were arguing in the car. We were doing what we always do; and now, we’re not. Now, we never will again. 

“I need to see him,” I mutter. 

She makes a small sound in her throat. “You don’t want to,” she says.

“I do,” I insist, frowning. “I need to make sure it’s him.” 

“We’re sure,” she says. “He had an ID on him, a full wallet. Everything was in there.” 

“Why can’t I see him?” I ask, pushing the topic. 

“Because…” she trails off, swallowing hard as she rests her eyes on mine. “There was a low-hanging branch. It nearly severed his head. He’s not in fit condition to be seen, or to have an open casket. He’s… his body is very broken.” 

Before I realize what’s happening, I pitch forward and vomit all over the linoleum floor. 

…

I’m nearly catatonic by the time Jackson arrives with Saige, holding her sleeping form on his hip. Her head rests on his shoulder as she’s sound asleep, and he gently sets her down on a chair so he can tend to me. The vomit has already been cleaned up, but I’m far from okay. The last rug I’d been standing on was just ripped out from under me, and I have no idea how to react. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, kneeling in front of me and trying to catch my eye. “I’m right here. Look at me. April, hey.” 

As my whole body trembles, I do my best to meet his eyes. He lifts his hands and holds my cheeks, steadying the rattles of my body, and looks at me solidly. His eyes are an anchor, they let me know I’m not drifting off anytime soon. I have to stay here. I have to take care of myself. I have to take care of my daughters. 

One of whom’s father is kneeling on the floor, trying to comfort me. The other, lying on a slab without a head. 

As that thought crosses my mind, I let out a long moan and collapse into myself. Before I can crumple, though, Jackson steadies and holds me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders to awkwardly rock me as he sits in the chair beside mine. 

“I know,” he murmurs, holding tight.

I open my eyes to Saige, who’s sleeping peacefully two chairs away. She doesn’t know. How will I tell her that both of her biological parents are dead? I cry harder at the thought, burying my face in Jackson’s chest as I clutch him with claw-like fingers. 

“I don’t know what to do,” I sob, finding it hard to breathe. 

What do I do now? Go home, where all of Matthew’s things are? Wait here for something else to happen, even though nothing else will? The coroner will take him away and the next arrangements to be made will be with the funeral home, nothing more to do with the hospital. I have no more business here, but the last place I want to be is the home we shared. 

I sit there with Jackson for a long time even after I’ve stopped crying, just staring. He doesn’t make me move, doesn’t say anything, he just stays with his arms wrapped around me. I don’t know how long we remain like that, but it’s long enough that when I sit up, my bones creak. 

“I can’t go home,” I say, very quietly.

His face is full of pain, secondhand sympathy. He takes a deep breath and holds my hand, patting it once before saying, “Why don’t you and Saige stay with me tonight.” 

…

His house is about the same size as mine, but furnished much differently. More modern, whereas mine is homey and more akin to farmhouse decorations, which is what I know. He lets the nanny go once we arrive with a curt thank-you, and I hover in the entryway with Saige still sleeping, limp as a ragdoll on my chest. 

“I can put her in with Hattie,” he says. “Want me to take her?” 

My brain is on autopilot. Too much has happened in one night, and I don’t have the energy to man the controls anymore. I let him take Saige and watch as they go up the stairs, lingering without taking my shoes off until he comes back down a few moments later. 

“Didn’t even wake up,” he says. 

What’ll happen in the morning crosses my mind. How am I going to explain this, how will I begin to delve into the reason why we stayed over at Jackson’s? The two of them will want to know right away, and I’m not sure if I’ll be capable of that.

“Stop thinking,” Jackson says, tearing me out from inside my head. “It’s not gonna do you any good tonight.” 

I nod and brace a hand on the railing, zoned now. He comes around to look at me head-on, and all I can do is stand there. 

“Here,” he says, lowering to help me out of my shoes - my clunky rain boots that I’d shoved on last-minute. I’m much more comfortable without them, but I still don’t move. I’m not sure where to go. 

He gently removes my hand from the banister and leads me to the couch, where I sit slowly. He sits next to me, not too close but not too far, and watches me. I don’t mind his eyes, but I’m not sure what he expects. I don’t have anything to say, yet I have a thousand questions. The problem is that there’s not a place to start. It seems, lately, there are only endings. 

“You wanna try and sleep?” he asks, voice gentle and cautious, like I might shatter. And given the current situation, it’s entirely plausible. 

“I don’t know,” I say. 

“Okay,” he says. “You want me to stay? I don’t have to. I can leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” 

I blink slowly, eyes aching as I do. I’m drained, there’s nothing left inside me. I’ve been left alone too many times to count; I don’t want tonight to be one of those times. 

“No,” I say. “Stay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**JACKSON**

When I wake up in the morning, I’m warm. That usually isn’t the case, so I’m confused right off the bat. I keep my room cold with the air conditioner on high, blasting as I sleep in only my boxers. So, the fact that I’m cozy and at a normal body temperature tells me something must be different.

I open my eyes to be met with a mess of red hair. It’s not necessarily an unfamiliar sight - I woke up like this every morning for years - but it’s something I haven’t seen in a long ass time.

April and I are lying on the couch, spooning. I’m lying behind her, body cocooned around hers, and she’s folded perfectly against me, pressed into all the right places. My mind is still so cloudy, though; why the hell are we in this position?

My arm is draped around her middle, face tucked in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent. I can’t believe that it hasn’t changed after all these years. She’s dressed in street clothes, one hand overlapping mine, keeping it in place. Even our ankles are threaded together; one of my feet between both of hers.

All this bodily contact is throwing me for the biggest loop. For a long moment, too long, I can’t remember what happened last night. I’m still so groggy, and I don’t think it’s a hangover. I stare at the back of April’s head and wonder if we went there - if we had sex last night. The fact that we’re both fully dressed would suggest otherwise, but I have no earthly clue why else we’d be cuddled up like we are.

As I lie still and collect my thoughts, though, it starts to come back. And my heart sinks to my feet, taking my stomach with it. Matthew. Motorcycle crash. Decapitated.

Fuck.

As gently as I can, I slip my hand out from under April’s and my foot out from between hers. I carefully stand up and over her, succeeding in my mission to keep her asleep. Just as I get up, though, I hear footsteps on the stairs and look over to see two little girls coming down, looking as confused as I felt a moment ago.

“Daddy?” Harriet says, still sleepy.

“Shh, shh…” I say, ushering them away from the couch where April lies. “Mama’s sleeping. Let’s be quiet, so we don’t wake her up.”

“Mama?” Harriet says. “What’s Mama doing here?”

“Mommy?” Saige pipes up, peering around my legs to see April sleeping on the couch. “My mama?”

“Yes, your mama,” I say, guiding them both with a hand between the shoulder blades. “Let’s get some breakfast. How does that sound?”

“I’m hungry,” Saige says, looking up at me with her big blue eyes.

“Well, hi there, hungry,” I say. “I’m Jackson.”

“Daddy…” Harriet groans, climbing up on a breakfast stool before looking at Saige. “Daddy tells silly jokes all the time, beanie,” she says.

“Beanie?” I say, keeping my tone light. “Bean, like a green bean?”

“No,” Saige says, a giggle imminent.

“String bean?” I ask. “A beanie baby? Are you a beanie baby, Saige? Are we gonna have to put you up for sale?”

“No!” she laughs.

“Daddy!” Harriet joins in. “No. Mama calls Saigey ‘beanie’ since always forever. Duh.”

“Well, what’s it supposed to mean?” I ask.

“I don’t know!” Harriet says. “I’m lovey and she’s beanie, that’s just the way it is, daddy. No more questions.”

“Alright, alright,” I concede, getting a frying pan out of a low cupboard to set it on the range.

“Um, daddy,” Harriet says, chatty as always. “You forgot to tell us one thing. Why is Mama here? And why did I wake up with Saigey in my bed?”

“Well...” I say, beginning to mix the pancake batter.

“Mama waked me up last night,” Saige says, rubbing her eyes with a muddled expression on her face. “I was crying. Mama crying, too.”

I blink hard for a moment to try and figure out how to navigate these waters. I know it’s not up to me to tell them what happened, but I can’t just leave this question unanswered.

“She tooked me out of my bed,” Saige continues. “And I waked up here with Hattie.”

“You’re right,” I say, stirring. “We just felt like having a sleepover, I guess.”

“‘Cause my mommy and my daddy are best friends forever!” Harriet announces, proud as ever.

That’s something April and I have always told her, always reminded her of. Just because we aren’t married anymore doesn’t mean we aren’t still close friends. That is how our relationship began, anyway.

While I continue to make breakfast, Harriet shows Saige around the kitchen and living room, showcasing all of her toys and things in the house that Saige has never seen. It’s cute seeing her so proud over her life here, and it makes me feel like I must be doing something right.

When it’s time to eat, I set the table with four plates - one saved for April because I know she’ll wake up soon. I’m not wrong, either. While the girls are digging into their pancakes I pre-cut for them, April trudges into the room looking disheveled and rubbing her eyes with one fist.

“Hey, dolly,” I say, tracking her with my eyes. I don’t catch the nickname before it passes my lips; it just comes out. I can’t remember the last time I called April that - it’s been years.

“Hi,” she says, playing it off as nothing as she sits down next to Saige, across from Harriet.

“Why you called mama that?” Saige asks, thoroughly confused. She sets her fork down and looks at April, who has the demeanor of someone who was just run over by a truck. Her hair is everywhere, her makeup is smudged all over her skin, and her clothes are rumpled.

“She’s not a dolly, daddy,” Harriet says, as matter-of-fact as always.

“Oh, it’s just an old nickname I had for her,” I say, taking another bite of pancakes. “It started off as ‘babydoll,’ then I shortened it even more. Doll, dolly, you name it.”

“That’s silly,” Saige says.

“It is,” I say. “But it stuck.”

I look at April when I say it, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s staring down at her untouched plate without any silverware in her hands, eyes glazed over and absent. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now, but it’s probably not anything good. Because of it, I don’t push her to eat even after fifteen minutes have gone by and she still hasn’t touched any of her food.

“Mama,” Harriet says, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “You’re not eating.”

April blinks a few times, glancing up at her older daughter. She stares at her face for a long time, almost as if she’s working to recognize her. I haven’t seen her catatonic like this for a long, long time. It scares me to see it again.

“Are you okay?” Harriet pushes, eyebrows knitted together in an expression April used to say was mine. Right now, though, it looks more like hers.

“I…” April begins, shaking her head a bit. It’s clear her mind is full to bursting. “I don’t know right now, honey.”

“You don’t know if you’re okay?” Harriet says, confused. “How do you not know?”

“I just don’t,” April answers, then looks to me. “Can I… can I take a shower?”

“Of course,” I say. “Hey, girls. What do you say we pop in a movie?”

“Movie!” they both cheer, stampeding off to the living room.

I get up, too, and run a hand along the back of April’s chair before following them. “There are spare towels in the master bath,” I say. “The white ones are clean. You good to go up by yourself?”

“Yeah,” she answers, standing like it comes with great difficulty. I watch her walk away, tempted to follow her before I hear the kids calling for help with the TV.

I turn on a Barbie show that looks like it came straight from the 90s, then work on cleaning up the table. Once all the dishes are in the dishwasher, the water turns off upstairs and I hear my name being called very gently.

“Jackson,” April says, her voice drifting down the stairs like a flyaway feather. “Jackson?”

“I’m here,” I say, one hand on the banister as I look up. “You need something?”

“Can you come here?” she asks.

I head up the stairs without questioning, taking them slowly and one at a time. By the time I reach the top and walk through the hall to the master bath, I see April wrapped in a white towel, sitting on the lip of the tub she didn’t use. The shower stall is fogged up, though, as is the rest of the room.

It’s strange, being so comfortable in a setting like this, but at the same time it’s not strange at all. As she sits there with her hair in wet tendrils on her shoulders and plenty of skin showing, I don’t feel awkward or out-of-place. Instead, I make myself comfortable and sit on the counter a few feet away.

“I don’t know how I’ll tell them,” she whispers, staring down at her dewy knees.

She runs her thumbs over the slopes, shaking her head so her wet hair falls forward. She hasn’t run a brush through it yet, which is strange. That used to be something she did straight out of the shower.

“I know I have to. I just don’t know how,” she continues, voice very soft.

She looks up with eyes that feel everything, ones that hold a deep, deep sadness. All I want to do is rush forward and give her a big hug, but that’s not appropriate. My mind is going a little haywire at the moment from how comfortably we’re sitting here talking with her in just a towel, and I’m tempted to fall back into our old ways. Our old ways, like how we’d touch each other casually, give kisses whenever, and lean on each other for support - even if that meant physically.

We’re not married anymore and haven’t been for years. But April is in my space, in my home, and it doesn’t feel like a thing has changed.

“Would you tell them together or apart?” I ask, resting my hands behind me.

“Together,” she answers. “I’m just worried Saige won’t understand.” She looks at me again with those same sad eyes. “She’s only three.”

“Yeah,” I say regretfully, eyes on my socked feet.

Then they roam over to her feet, which are resting on each other, the toenails painted a coral pink. She always took good care of her nails, and her feet were somewhat of an obsession of mine. Not a kink, not a fetish, but an appreciation. Okay, maybe a kink.

But I can’t think about that now. Right now, there are much more serious issues at hand.

“How do I just drop it on them?” she says. “They don’t even know right now. They think everything’s fine.” Her voice breaks and gets pitchy, rising like she’s going to cry. She wipes her nose and sniffles, then blinks rapidly as the tears begin. “It’s not fair, Jackson.”

“I know,” I say, unable to stay rooted in the same spot any longer. I cross the room and sit on the lip of the tub beside her, and she folds against me instantly. I wrap my arms around her as she sobs against my shoulder, whimpering softly as she lets her sadness out. “I know,” I say again, softer this time.

We stay like that for a while, her body resting on mine as I rub the part of her upper arm I can reach. When she finally takes a breath and comes closer to calming down, I plant a kiss on top of her head and she sits up straight, wiping her eyes as she goes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding withered.

“Don’t apologize,” I say. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I got you. Okay?”

She nods, sniffling some more. When she blinks, errant tears drip under her eyelashes and make streams down her cheeks, disappearing into the corners of her mouth.

“Will you sit with me while I tell…” she asks, then falters. “You don’t have to say anything. But having you there would make me feel better, I think.”

“Of course,” I say.

“And Harriet might need you,” I say. “She was never close with Matthew, really. But the concept… Saige’s daddy dying…” She shakes her head and puffs out her lips, a sob sneaking out when she exhales. “It’s going to be really confusing.”

“I’ll be there,” I say. “Do you want to get it over with now?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “I’ll just get dressed.”

I leave the room while she puts back on the clothes from yesterday and wait for her at the top of the stairs. She comes out a few moments later, hair damp and brushed, face free of any makeup. I smile inwardly because this is the way I know her best, but a way I haven’t seen her for a very long time.

When we get downstairs, the girls are still engrossed in their movie. April wrings her hands from a few feet away, and I get the picture that it’s up to me to rip them away from the screen.

“Hats,” I say. “Can you turn that off for me, please?”

“Daddy, it’s not over,” she says, barely glancing my way.

“I know,” I say, picking up the remote with my thumb hovering over the power button. “But your mom has something important she wants to talk to you about. And it’s more important than the TV, so it’s gonna go off.”

The screen goes black and the girls whine because of it for a moment, but stop abruptly when they see April’s face. They know her just as well as I do, and it’s very clear something isn’t right.

“Mama?” Saige says, slipping off the leather armchair she’d been sitting on to go over and wrap her arms around her mother’s waist. “Mama, what?”

“Let’s sit down,” April says, prying Saige off and sitting in the middle of the couch. Harriet gets off her chair, too, and goes to join them. I take the spot that Saige had just been in with plans to act as a bystander - only jumping in if April needs me to.

“What’s wrong, mama?” Harriet asks, crawling into her lap. Now, she has a leg and so does Saige. April wraps an arm around either of them and sighs before beginning, rubbing their backs to soothe both them and herself.

“You know when we had our kitty, Yogurt?”

“Yo-yo!” Saige says, quiet but enthused.

“Yeah,” April says, forcing a smile. “And remember how we had him for a long time, and we loved him. And Yogurt didn’t do anything wrong, but he had to leave us.”

“He got hitted by a truck,” Harriet says, eyes wide and glistening.

“He did,” April says, nodding. This isn’t the first time I’m hearing of the famous Yogurt; Harriet was so torn up over his passing that April told me she refused to get another cat to replace him. “But just because he’s gone doesn’t mean we love him any less. Right?”

“I love him still,” Saige says.

“Me, too,” April agrees, and runs her teeth over her lower lip. “But my sad news doesn’t really have anything to do with Yogurt. My sad news has to do with Daddy.” She looks at Saige when she says this.

“My daddy?” Harriet asks, fear laced in her voice as she looks at me. She clambers off April’s lap and hurries over, sitting close to me instead. “Is something wrong with daddy?”

“No,” April says. “Saige’s daddy.”

“Did he get hitted by a truck, too?” Harriet pipes up.

“No,” April says again, tightening her arm around the little blonde on her lap. “He didn’t. But something bad did happen to him.”

“Dada?” Saige says, worried now. “Where is Dada?”

“Oh, baby,” April says, wavering. “Your daddy got in a very bad accident.”

“Is he okay?” Harriet asks, body tense on my lap.

April looks between them and shakes her head slowly. “No. No, he’s not. He got very hurt, and he went up to heaven. God took him to be an angel.”

“A angel?” Saige asks, and the pitch of her voice stabs me in the heart. “No, mama. No, I don’t think so.”

April takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She presses her nose against the back of Saige’s head and hugs her closer still, which clearly confuses her. She’s only 3 years old - how can she be expected to understand?

“When Dada coming back?” she asks, turning to look April in the face. “Mama.”

April takes another deep breath and swallows; I can see her throat move from here. “Honey,” she says, voice gentle and wavering. “He’s not. He’s not coming back.”

“Why?” Saige asks. “Is he mad? He still mad?”

When April blinks, a tear falls from each of her eyes. She opens them again and they’re glistening, shining from across the room. “No, baby, he’s not mad,” she says. “He died. He went to be with God. We’re not gonna be able to see him again. He went bye-bye, baby. For a long time. Forever.”

“Bye-bye?” Saige says, near tears now. “No, no, mommy. Until next time? Maybe next time?”

“No,” April says, shaking her head while whispering. “No, honey.”

Saige’s lower lip trembles, as does her chin, and she throws her arms around April’s neck and starts to sob. Harriet looks at me with worry on her face, eyes wide and glassy.

“Daddy, Matt died?” she asks, hands on my shoulders. Her fingers dig in as she grips me tightly, and I wind my arms around her to pull her close in a big hug.

“Sadly, yeah,” I say, rubbing her back slowly. “And I am so, so sorry.”

“Who’s gonna live with Mama now?” Harriet asks, voice tucked into my neck.

“I don’t know any answers right now, babe,” I say. “Let’s just try and be strong for Mommy and Saige, okay? But if you wanna cry, you can. You can feel anything you want.”

“Okay,” she whimpers, one hand flat on my chest while her body is soft against mine. I keep her close and rest my eyes on April, who’s holding the only piece of Matthew she has left.

The funny thing about Saige is, in the few times I’ve met her, she’s never made me think about Matthew at all. The person who she reminds me most of is April - they’ve even grown to somewhat resemble each other. Saige has the same stretch of freckles across her nose, and wears the same scrunchy expression when she laughs. She’s tiny, just like Harriet and April, and laughs at the same jokes. Even though she’s blonde-haired, blue-eyed and pale as can be, she fits under April’s wing perfectly. She’s never known anything else; to her, April is the only mother she’s ever had.

I wonder to myself if they ever told her about Karen, Matthew’s first wife and her mom. My guess is that they haven’t, because she’s still so young. But my heart hurts for her. She’s three years old and already lost both people who created her. The saving grace is that at least she still has April, and that’s the best gift she could’ve been given. There’s no better mom in the world than April, and Saige will always know that.

I rest my chin on top of Harriet’s curls and close my eyes. The only sound in the room is that of Saige still crying, and I know it will stay in my head for a long time to come.

…

April spreads herself too thin during the funeral preparation, which isn’t anything new. She meets with the funeral directors at the funeral home multiple times over the following week and arranges everything from the flowers, to the program, to the music, and more.

She’s been staying at my house with the girls. She’s offered to leave a handful of times, but I can see it in her eyes that she doesn’t want to. If she’s not ready, I won’t ask her to. A big part of me actually wants her to stay. I like the company. I like the family feeling, although I wish they were here for a more positive reason.

Tonight, I’m sitting on the couch while April goes through pictures for the boards that will be propped on either side of Matthew’s casket. She hasn’t spoken much, it’s been a quiet night - the girls got to watch a movie while she worked and I made dinner. To say she hasn’t been herself for the past few days would be an understatement, but she has due right. I’ve been doing my best to help the girls understand.

I don’t think Saige fully grips what’s happened, and April is sure she hasn’t. She’s been going to school like normal, playing like everything is fine, like the memory of her father has been wiped from her mind. April is hurt because of it, I can tell. But I’ve reminded her time and time again that Saige is only three. She can’t be expected to conceptualize death and understand the gravity surrounding it. Matthew used to work longer hours. From her perspective, who’s to say that he’s not at the hospital, pulling a double? It’s been easy for her to forget because that’s the only way she knows how to deal with it.

“I tried to talk to Saigey about it again tonight,” April says, out of the blue.

When I look over, she’s studying a picture from when Saige was small. She and Matthew are standing next to each other at what looks like a picnic of some sort, both dressed in summer outfits. Saige can’t be more than a year old, cradled in April’s arms. She puts it in the pile that will make it onto a board.

“Yeah?” I say.

She nods and keeps flipping through photos. “She wasn’t interested,” she says. “She started whining and wouldn’t let me finish.”

“She was probably just grumpy and tired,” I say, looking at her with a soft, sympathetic expression. She doesn’t see it, though, because her attention is still focused on the photos in her hands. “You can’t blame her. She’s so little.”

“I know,” April whispers, setting another picture to the side that I can’t see. “I just feel bad. I… I don’t know how to feel.” She sighs and sets the stack down, leaning forward with her head in her hands. “We were fighting. That’s how we left things, before he left that night. I told him not to get on that goddamn bike, Jackson. I told him. And he…”

“I know,” I say, fanning out my fingers before closing them again, resisting the urge to reach over to rub her back. I’m not sure what’s okay and what’s not. I want to comfort her, but I don’t want to cross any lines that I shouldn’t.

“We’d been fighting for _so long_ ,” she goes on to say, shaking her head. “Every day, almost. Over any stupid little thing.” She closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them back up. “I don’t remember the last time I told him I loved him. Or if I…”

She cuts herself off, closing her lips and pressing them tightly together.

“What?” I say, prompting her.

“Nothing,” she says softly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just upset that it was such a regular, routine thing for us to fight. So much so that I didn’t bat an eye that night. I told him to take the car instead of the bike, but I didn’t push. I should’ve.”

“He was a grown man,” I say. “You couldn’t have forced him to change his mind if it was already made up.”

“Yeah,” she says, but it’s not convincing.

“Seriously,” I say, staring at her until she turns to meet my eyes. I want her to understand that she’s not the one to blame here. “Dolly, seriously.”

The corner of her lips pull up in a small smile. “That nickname,” she says.

My face heats up. “I know. Sorry. Habit.”

“No,” she says, eyes shimmering for the first time in days. “I still like it.”

Now, it’s my turn to smile. I can’t bear to look at her for some reason, though. I feel self-conscious all of a sudden. “It was always one of my favorites, too,” I say.

We spend a few minutes in silence as she goes back to the pictures and I turn my attention to the game that’s muted on TV. I did that out of courtesy; if it were just me here, the TV would be cranked so loud it’d be like I was at the game in person.

“His family’s flying in tomorrow,” April says.

His family is based in Florida. They couldn’t get here earlier to help with the funeral arrangements, which I had plenty of thoughts about that I kept to myself. Their kid died, and they waited _days_ to come to his hometown? It didn’t sit right with me, but it wasn’t worth bringing up. I’m sure April feels the same, anyway.

“Oh, yeah?”

She nods. “In time for the service.” She sighs. “They’ve been calling me nonstop, requesting all this stuff be put in. We fought over what pastor to use, until I finally convinced them that Matthew would want the one we know. They wanted to fly the one that presides over their family’s church all the way from Florida.”

“Uh… that’s a little crazy,” I comment.

“I know,” she says. “They’ve been so…. I really shouldn’t complain. Their son, their brother… he was a part of their family, and he died. They have a right to act the way they’re acting. I’m sure I would be, too. But it’s just - it’s so overwhelming.”

“You can complain about whatever you want,” I say. “If they’re pissing you off, just let it out. I’m here to listen.”

She shakes her head. “It’s wrong,” she says. “It feels wrong. I appreciate the help they’ve given me. I really do.”

“But they’re a bunch of assholes.”

She gasps and looks my way, then playfully slaps my arm like she used to. “Jackson,” she hisses, but her eyes are smiling.

“Hey,” I say. “If you won’t state the cold hard truth, I will.”

“We all know that,” she mutters, and I snort.

“What’d you say?” I tease.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, smirking now.

“That’s what I thought.”

…

The day of the funeral, April is a mess of nerves. She’s had her dress picked out for days, but is now convinced it’s not good enough. She’s having a near-meltdown as the girls and I are already dressed, pacing in the guest bedroom while wearing nothing but a bra and tights.

“April, I’m sorry, but there’s no time for this,” I say, standing outside the door.

If things were different, I’d be in that room with her. And though the door is wide open, I won’t breach that barrier unless she asks me to.

“I know that!” she says, and I hear the sound of her rifling her clothes around.

“What’s so wrong with what you had on?” I ask.

“It was too short. The Taylors will think it’s inappropriate. And I know you don’t get it, so please don’t try and lecture me. I’m just trying to find something decent.”

“You’ve had that dressed planned for weeks, doll,” I say.

“I know!” she says. “But it won’t work. Trust me.”

I sigh to myself and lean further against the wall. “Daddy?” Harriet calls up the stairs. “Mama’s phone is ringing.”

“Alright, babe,” I say. “She’ll be right down.”

“It’s probably them,” she says, appearing in the doorway flushed and out-of-breath. Her skin is pink and her chest is heaving, and she’s barely wearing any clothes. I force myself to keep my eyes on her face, but it’s much more difficult than it seems.

I catch a glimpse of her cleavage before I have a chance to reign myself in, and can’t help but notice that her boobs look better than ever. Pushed together by the bra she’s wearing, they’re not as big as when I held them last - but they’re a good size. And still freckled. God damn it.

“We have to get going,” I say, trying to remain as calm as possible. If my temper rises, so will hers. And that’s not a good mix.

“Jackson, I know,” she insists. “I’m just… I have nothing else to wear. And I’m freaking out.”

“If they don’t like that dress, fuck ‘em,” I say. “You did everything this past week. They can suck a dick.”

“Jackson, please,” she says, not finding me funny this time. She looks over her shoulder at her clothes lain out on the bed, then sighs in defeat.

“The dress is fine,” I try and convince her. “You look beautiful in it. And it’s very respectful. You’re wearing tights; I don’t know how much more modest you can get.”

She looks down at herself, which gives me the invitation to do so as well. The freckles dotting her ribcage drive me absolutely crazy, and they always have. Her tights are pulled just below her belly button, skimming over her hips and down lower. She’s perfect, as she’s always been.

“Okay,” she says. “Are you really sure it’s fine?”

“100%.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll put it on and be right there.”

I give her a nod and head down the stairs, finding the girls waiting on the bottom step in their tiny black dresses, chins resting on their fists.

“Hey, jokers,” I say. “Mama’s almost ready. Then we’ll head out. Okay?”

They nod, and only a few moments later does April come scurrying down the stairs with her shoes hanging off two fingers. “Okay, let’s go,” she says, slipping her purse over her shoulder and gesturing towards the door.

…

“Are we going to say bye-bye to Daddy?” Saige asks, hand clasped inside April’s as we walk through the church parking lot. We got here earlier than the general guests so April could coordinate final details with the funeral director, so there aren’t many cars here yet.

“Yes, baby,” April says, pausing to lift the little girl up onto her hip. “And we’re a little late, so we’re gonna walk faster.”

Saige bounces as April hurries the two of them inside, and Harriet and I hang back. My daughter looks up at me with curious wonder, and I give her a knowing look.

“Saigey is going with Mama because it was her daddy, not mine,” she states.

“Right,” I say, squeezing her hand.

“I’m glad it wasn’t my daddy,” Harriet continues. “‘Cause that’s you. And I don’t want you to go away from me.”

“I won’t,” I say. “I promise, I’m gonna stick around for a long, long time yet.”

“Promise, promise?”

“Cross my heart,” I say.

We head into the cavernous church and can hear April’s voice carrying throughout even though she and Saige are far away. I stay with Harriet at the back behind the last pew, just taking in the scenery and all that April put together. It’s beautiful in here, and the white casket at the front of the room is the icing on the cake. It’s huge, immaculate, and expensive. She pulled out all the stops.

“Is Matt in there?” Harriet asks, tugging on my hand while pointing at the object of my attention. “Is he in that big box, daddy?”

“Y-yeah,” I stammer, debating whether or not to correct her on what it’s called. I don’t, though, because I’m too busy taking everything in. It’s a strange feeling, to see someone’s life laid out in photos and mementos in a single room.

“He gets putted in the ground in a box?” she presses.

“Um, kind of,” I say, then look at her. “But let’s not put it that way to Mommy, okay?”

She nods and faces forward again, still not letting go of my hand.

After April is done talking with the director, she finds us. She sets Saige on the ground and the little girl lingers near her legs; when I look down, I notice that her thumb is in her mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do that before.

But while I’m looking at Saige, April unexpectedly flies into my arms and throws hers around my shoulders. She tucks her face into my neck and makes a tiny sound of distress, and I do what my gut tells me to do. I hug the small of her back and close my eyes, holding her close while making soothing sounds and telling her everything will be okay.

Interrupting our moment, though, footsteps and voices appear behind us. April pulls away and wipes beneath her eyes, trying to brighten up to see who’s arrived.

“Hold on,” she says, placing two flat hands on my chest before walking towards the new guests. “Marianne. Don. It’s so good to see you.”

I can’t hear what they say in response, and I don’t pay attention. I’m distracted because I feel little arms wrap around my legs, and when I look down I expect to see my daughter. But I don’t. I see the top of a little blonde head pressed against my knees, hugging as tight as she can.

“You alright, Saige?” I ask, reaching down to touch her hair.

“Ruby, is that you?” the older woman calls, and as she gets closer it’s clear that she must be Matthew’s mother - Saige’s grandma. “Ruby Saige? You’ve gotten so big.”

Saige makes a sound of discomfort and presses her face against my pants in attempts to hide from the woman coming closer.

“Hey, you wanna say hi to your grandma?” I ask, unobtrusively. “She came over here to see you.”

“No,” Saige grunts.

“Saige,” April says sternly, click-clacking over in her heels. “Come out and say hi to your grandma, please.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Saigey,” April says, kneeling. She fiddles with her skirt as she does so, looking up like she’s done something wrong. I hadn’t even noticed if it rode up. “Come out right now, please.”

“No.”

April stands and looks at the woman, Marianne, with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry,” she says. “She’s… dealing with all of this in her own way.”

“I can see that,” Marianne says haughtily. Then, she looks at me with icy eyes, but says nothing.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” April says, one hand still on Saige’s shoulders to try and remove her from me, but I don’t think she plans on budging. It’s clear the Taylors are wondering who I am, but April doesn’t offer an explanation. I’m glad; she doesn’t owe them one.

“‘Glad’ isn’t the word I’d use,” Mr. Taylor, Don, says as he squints at April. They brush past her on the way to the altar, near where the coffin lies. They genuflect on the way, and a bunch of other white people with bad dispositions come after them - all of whom I’m assuming are relatives of Matthew’s, as well.

“Are these all Taylors?” I ask April, but she doesn’t stick around. She’s saying hello to people who need to be greeted; I almost forgot that she’s the grieving wife. I feel guilty for letting it slip my mind.

I get lost in the crowd and April disappears until the ceremony actually starts. I start to head towards the back, but an arm on my elbow stops me. I turn to see April with an urgent look on her face, beckoning me forward.

“Please, come sit with us,” she says, straining with her eyebrow tilted up.

“I… I don’t know,” I say, frowning.

“Please, Jackson,” she says. “I need you up there with me.”

So, I go. I sit next to her in the hard pew with the aisle to my right, and listen to everything the pastor has to say. It’s not my first time in church; I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d go with her when we were married. And she always came through on the waffles after.

And much in the way she did then, she takes my hand. She squeezes my fingers tight without any intention of letting go, and I stare down at the place where we’re entwined for a long moment before lifting my head again. She needs my support. And it’s good to be needed, especially by her.

The service is long, but I stay stoic and placid the entire time. April cries and the girls fidget, not really understanding the process happening in front of them. I can see it on their faces that they hate that April is crying, and I wish I could do something to fix it. But I can’t.

After it’s over, Harriet and I stay sitting while the church empties out and April takes Saige to say hello and goodbye to her relatives. My daughter doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. The moment doesn’t need to be overrun with words; if she has questions, she’ll ask.

I’m not sure how long we spend sitting in that front pew before I hear raised voices. With furrowed eyebrows, I turn around with my arm around Harriet’s shoulders and glance outside, where I’m sure they’re coming from.

“What’s that?” she asks.

“I’m not sure,” I answer. “You stay here. I’m gonna go check it out.”

I hurry down the aisle while rolling up my sleeves, sensing that something isn’t right past those big front doors. When I step outside, I see that I couldn’t be more correct; standing there berating April is Don and Marianne, voices raised and angry.

“She doesn’t belong with you,” Marianne says, voice trembling. “She’s a Taylor. She belongs with us.”

April’s face is beet-red, how it always gets when she’s upset. Her lips are stark white, though, from how tightly she’s pressing them together. Saige is in her arms, facing backwards, legs wrapped around April’s small waist.

“She belongs with me. I’m her mother.”

“You’re as much of her mother as I am,” Marianne retorts. “You know who her real mother is, and it isn’t you. You’ve just been playing pretend these last three years, and I’ve always seen through you. Always! You don’t even want her; you just want to keep her away from us. Because you’re a selfish, selfish woman.”

“Hey!” I bellow, stepping in. I won’t let them talk that way about April. “How about we all calm down, okay? Tensions are high, everyone’s had a hard-”

“And this!” Marianne shrills. “Already moving onto a new man before my son is even in the ground. Look at yourself, April Kepner. Take a good, hard look at yourself and tell me you deserve Matthew’s child.”

“Please, stop,” April begs, one hand on the back of Saige’s head. “If you care about her at all, please. Just stop.”

“How dare you question if I care about my granddaughter?” she argues. “Look at you, dressed like a slut for her father’s funeral. What kind of example are you setting?” She shakes her head, upper lip raised in disgust. “She deserves a good, Christian mother who’s a woman of God. And that clearly isn’t you. You’ve never been her mother. She doesn’t belong to you.”

April starts to cry; huge, shiny tears well up in her eyes and trickle down her cheeks as she sniffles loudly.

Saige lifts her head and looks at April, and I see that she’s crying, too. “I’m not yours, mama?” she asks, sobbing. “Am I going away?”

April can’t answer. She’s crying too hard, taking steps backwards away from the Taylors.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Marianne says, inching closer to try and console Saige. “It’s okay, my little Ruby.”

“That’s not my name!” Saige shouts, gripping April with vice-like fingers.

“Look, I think you two should just go,” I say, stepping in.

They both laugh, right in my face - loud and brash. “This is our son’s funeral,” Marianne says. “And you have the gall to tell us to leave? Are you serious? Are you out of your mind?”

“Daddy?” I hear, and turn to see Harriet in the doorway. “Why’s Mommy and Saigey crying?”

“Honey, go back inside,” I say, one arm extended in her direction. “Don’t worry about it. We’re figuring it out.”

Marianne scoots past me while I’m trying to placate Harriet, and touches Saige’s back. “Don’t cry, sweetie. Grandma and Grandpa are gonna do what’s right for you. So, don’t be afraid, okay?”

Saige screams and clings to April, and April hitches her up higher and turns away out of Marianne and Don’s grip. She hurries towards the car, red hair flying, and they don’t follow.

I hurry over to Harriet and whisk her into my arms, and she holds tight to me out of habit - arms and legs latched around my body. I shoot one last look at the Taylors, then head off in April’s direction to try and fix what they broke.


	3. Chapter 3

**APRIL**

I can’t get my thoughts straight as I rush away from the scene. I’m not exactly sure where I’m headed; all I know is that I need to get away from whatever that was. I clutch Saige tight, hold the back of her head with one hand, and fast-walk in search of solace.

After a few minutes, she picks her head up and looks right into my eyes. "Mama," she says. "I'm your baby, right? I'm your baby?" 

I hug her close, so hard that my arms shake. "Yes," I say. "Yes. It doesn't matter what you heard back there. You're my baby, and I love you so much. I don't want you to think about any of that." 

She's quiet for a long moment, and I can't help but wonder if she believes me or even understands. 

"Okay, Saigey?" I say. 

"Okay, mama."

We keep walking, not towards anything but away from those awful people. My arms get tired of holding my daughter, but I don't put her down.

“April!” I hear, not long after. My first instinct is to pick up the pace, but I recognize the voice before my body can respond. It’s not one of the Taylors, it’s Jackson. “April, slow down.”

I stop in my tracks and listen to Saige’s ragged breathing in my ear. I rub her back and press my face to her hair, closing my eyes as tears leak out of them. I blink at Jackson’s figure in the distance as he and Harriet hurry towards us, alarmed looks on their faces. 

“Hey,” he says, once he gets a bit closer. “Hey, you alright?” 

“No,” I answer, bluntly. 

“Yeah,” he says, then glances at Saige who still hasn’t said a word. “We should go. Staying here isn’t gonna help anyone.” 

My chin trembles and he gives me a steadying look. I hitch Saige up higher and follow him in a different direction, not missing the way Harriet’s eyes burn into me from where she stands.

But we’re quiet as we walk to the car. No one speaks; the kids don’t even ask questions while Jackson and I work as a team to get them buckled into their seats. I climb in the front and stare out the windshield, noticing the tiny stains I hadn’t seen before.

Everything is swirling inside me with no place to land. My heart is beating a thousand times its usual rate and I can’t seem to catch my breath. I rock back and forth to try to calm myself down, but it doesn’t work. 

When Jackson gets in and shuts the door behind him, he looks over just before I close my eyes. “You alright?” he asks. “April?”

I shake my head vigorously. I never used to classify myself as an anxious person, but what I’m experiencing right now feels scarily akin to a panic attack. 

“I need air,” I say, then pop open the passenger’s side door again, unbuckle, and get out. I don’t look back - I just listen to the clacking of my heels on the pavement and try to ignore the goosebumps that rise on my arms from the crisp air. 

I think I hear Jackson mutter something to the girls like ‘stay here’ before he follows. He shows up in mere seconds, right next to me, his voice smooth and steady as waves against the shore.

“Hey,” he says. “I know you’re messed up. I am, too. But we gotta get in the car. You’ll be better at home than you are here.” 

I shake my head again, forcing my hair out of the updo it’d been held in. “I can’t,” I say, then double over to plant my hands on my knees. “It’s too much. I can’t.” 

“I know,” he says, one hand flat in the middle of my back. “But you have to.” 

I let my head hang and grit my teeth, trying to force myself back to center. I’m not used to this feeling, this out-of-control sensation that I can’t reel in. It seems like my whole body is buzzing, ready to detonate at any given second. I’m terrified, angry and sad. Confused, aching, and innately lonely. I don’t know where to begin in sifting through any of these feelings. 

“They think I’m crazy,” I whisper, meaning the girls. 

“No, they don’t,” he says. “They’re just worried about you. But you’re gonna be fine, so they have no reason to freak out. And I told them that.” 

“They’re gonna take her away from me.” 

“No,” he answers, right away. “You won’t let that happen. Come on, dolly, they don’t know who they’re messing with. You’re a fuckin’ force.” 

I can’t bring myself to believe him. Tears sting my eyes so badly I have to force them closed, and when I stand to my full height I’m so weak that my knees threaten to give out. 

Jackson steadies me, though, before it can happen. He winds an arm around my lower back and supports my weight, pulling me close to his side. I let out a sigh of relief once he does; being able to depend on someone else after spending too long wavering on my own is a cathartic release in itself. 

I let him lead me back to the car. After I’m buckled in again, I try and think of something to say that would comfort the girls, but no words come to mind. 

…

When we get back to the house, I’m not sure what my next move should be. I stand and stare ahead at the framed photos of Harriet on the walls, while vaguely hearing the sounds of Jackson and the kids existing around me. But I’m not a part of that existence. 

“April,” he says, coming up behind me with a hand between my shoulder blades. “You can take your shoes off.”

I look down at my black pumps that sheath my tights-covered feet. I swallow loudly and toe them off, then stand a considerable amount shorter. When I look up at Jackson, his eyes are a bit confused and decently sad. I don’t know how to fix that.

It seems strange to change out of my mourning clothes - all black. As I try and picture what I’ll put on next, one thought pops into my head: right now, I’m missing the reception. 

I slip my feet back into my shoes subtly and turn around to grab my purse. I’m not in the best shape to drive at the moment, but I would never ask the three of them to come with me, so I go for the keys that are sitting in a bowl near the door. 

“Hey,” Jackson says, one hand on my upper arm. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

I turn to look at him with aching eyes. “The reception,” I say. “It’s going on right now and I’m not there.” 

He shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You don’t have to go to that. You should stay here and rest.” 

“And miss the rest of my husband’s funeral?” I say, a certain clip to my tone. “His family already thinks I’m horrible. They’ll think I’m keeping Saige from them on purpose.” 

“Did you plan on bringing her, too?” he presses.

“I don’t know,” I say. “All I know is that I need to be there. They’ll roast me alive if I don’t show. All those horrible things they say about me will be true.” 

“No, they won’t,” he insists. “What horrible things do they say? Come on. You’re upset, April. Stay home. Just stay and be with your kids. They need you.” 

“I know they do,” I say, voice wobbling. “I know that. But they have you here. Right now, I need to show my face there. How will it look if I don’t go? If I spend the night here instead?”

“And they’re supposed to know that, how?” 

“They will!” I say. “They just will.”

“Do you even  _ want _ to go?” he asks, eyes narrowed. 

“Jackson,” I say, baffled. I take a step back and wipe the moisture from under my eyes. “Don’t say that. We were married, he was my husband.  _ He _ was my husband, not you. So, stop acting like you are.” 

The expression in his eyes changes from indignant to wounded, and I instantly feel bad. I’m not sure who I was trying to convince with that statement - Jackson, or myself. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, immediately. “I’m just… I’m so scared. I can’t take this. His parents… they’ve never liked me, and now they want my baby. I can’t live with myself if they take her, Jackson. And they’re going to. They want to.” 

“Hey…” he says, walking forward to take me in his arms. I dissolve into sobs on his shoulder, face pressed into his clean-smelling neck. I’d recognize this smell anywhere. “Hey. It’ll be okay. Those assholes were just blowing smoke. You adopted her, right?"

I nod.

"See, perfect. They’re trying to scare you. They’re not gonna do shit. They can't."

I sniffle and try to let his words sink in, but all they do is fester on the surface. He doesn’t know that family like I do; how vindictive, cruel and manipulative they can be. I can’t imagine a worse upbringing for Saige than if she were to be adopted by her paternal grandparents. 

“Okay?” he says, very softly. 

I don’t give him an affirmative response. I just squeeze his shoulders tighter and cry some more, letting myself be as loud and blubbery as I need. They’ll try and take her - half my world - I know they will. Because I know them. 

“They will, Jackson,” I whimper. “They will try. I know it. They made her question if she was mine. They said that right in front of her."

He doesn’t have a response this time, probably because he's aware I know what he's thinking - that they're assholes. So, all he does is run his fingers up and down my back in long, fluid strokes and press the side of his face to my head. He holds me for a while longer until we hear small, gentle footsteps on the hardwood, and I pull away to see both my daughters standing before us, still dressed in their funeral-wear.

“Mama, you okay?” Saige asks, coming closer and reaching her arms up to be held. I oblige, and hold her close to my chest. I relish the feeling of her heart beating against mine and her soft breath puffing against my ear. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m just sad,” I say, swaying. 

“About Daddy?” 

I nod and lock eyes with Jackson behind her head. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I’m really sad about Daddy.”

“Me, too,” Harriet says, from the ground. She leans against the side of Jackson’s leg and he rests a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him for validation, and he gives her a small smile in return. They are two sides of the same coin. 

“It’s okay to be sad,” Jackson says. “It’s normal. Crying is normal, too.” 

“Mama crying a lot,” Saige says, voice muffled by my hair. 

“And that’s okay,” Jackson says, taking Harriet’s hand. “I know something that can fix it, though. At least a little.” He looks around, eyebrows up. “Anybody feel like ice cream for dinner?” 

Substituted for the usual squeals of delight are a handful of grateful smiles partnered with sighs of relief. Even from me. He’s always known how to break up a tense moment, and this couldn’t have come sooner.

I take off my heels again and cast them to the corner. I won’t be going to the reception tonight. Instead, I’ll stay here and eat ice cream for dinner with my daughters and the man who was once everything to me. 

…

Later that night, we’re all in pajamas while Jackson and I put the girls to bed together. They’re lying in Harriet’s twin bed, shoulder-to-shoulder, bathed and smelling sweet and clean. Both of their eyelids are droopy but they begged for a story from each of us, which we gave in and read to them. 

“I never got Mama  _ and  _ Daddy at bedtime,” Harriet says, eyes shining as she looks between the two of us. She smiles like she can’t contain herself and pulls the covers to her chin. 

“I did,” Saige says absently, looking at me with her moon eyes. My chest splinters a bit hearing her say that, and I reach forward to press a firm kiss to her forehead. 

“Your Daddy’s with you in here,” I say, touching her chest. 

“In my body?” she asks, her voice high and wondering.

I smile a bit. “In your heart,” I say. “Whenever you think about him, he’s with you.” 

“Can I think about him right now?”

“Whenever you want,” I say.

“Like baby Sammy,” Harriet says, and my thoughts pause. I stop talking, and my consciousness comes to a screeching halt. My hand stops moving in Saige’s hair, and my eyes sting with the onset of tears. 

“Yes,” Jackson says, taking my spot and picking up where I’d left off. “Just like that. They’re both in heaven now.” 

I look to my right, at the man who I thought would’ve stopped amazing me by now. I didn’t think I’d ever hear him drop that word, no less use it in that context. Having a child really did change him, and I haven’t had the time to realize it fully until now. 

“Who’s Sammy?” Saige asks, and I still can’t say a word. 

I’m inundated with the fleeting memory we had of him - his small, reddish face, his miniscule body, the way his fingers gripped mine so much stronger than I imagined they could. I remember Jackson’s arm around me, his body cocooning mine, and I remember our son’s first and last breaths. His death is the last thing I need to be thinking about right now; it feels like a swift kick to the stomach when I’m already wounded. 

“My brother,” Harriet answers simply.

“My brother, too?” Saige says. 

“No. Just mine. My mommy and my daddy made him before I was alive. But he died.”

“Okay,” Jackson says, swiftly stepping in and kissing Harriet’s forehead. “We can talk about Sammy more in the morning, if you want. But right now, it’s time for two little angels to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” 

“Are you going to sleep, too?” Harriet asks, looking between both of us. 

“Soon, yes,” I say. 

“In the same bed like mommies and daddies?” she continues. 

My stomach twists as I’m not sure how to process her question. I have a million things to deal with, and my relationship with Jackson isn’t something that should be confusing - at least, not to me. But it seems to be for her, so now it has to be on the forefront of my mind. 

“No,” I say. “I’ll be on the couch.” 

“Nah,” Jackson says. “I’ll let Mommy have the big bed. I’ll take the couch. Know why?”

“‘Cause dads are the best!” Harriet answers, knowing her spot to fill.

He chuckles. “That’s right. Okay. Night, girls.” 

“Goodnight, lovey,” I say, holding Harriet’s face in my hands while I kiss her cheeks. I move to Saige and say, “Night, beanie-boo.”

“Night-night, mama,” she says, already drifting off. 

“Love you mostest, mostest, mostest, mama,” Harriet says, grinning in a way that looks just like her father. 

“Love you more,” I say, looking over my shoulder while I turn off the light. “Sleep tight, babes. See you in the morning.” 

I shut the door most of the way and lead the way towards the stairs. We left the kitchen a mess with ice cream ingredients, so Jackson and I both head down to clean up before we go get some rest ourselves. 

While I wipe down the counter that’s covered in melted chocolate, I pause while leaning forward and close my eyes for a moment. “I can’t lose her,” I say, out of the blue. I know he knows who I’m talking about, though. It would be hard not to. 

“I know,” he says, rinsing out a rag in the sink.

I stay still. “I’d lose a part of me,” I say. “I really would. I raised her. I’m the only mother she’s ever known.” My voice cracks thinking about how so much has been taken from Saige already in her short, little life. To add one more thing would be inhumane. “It would be cruel for them to take her from me.” 

“It would,” he agrees, then looks up to meet my eyes. “It’s not going to happen. You two will be just fine. It’ll be hard for a while, obviously. You guys just had a big loss. But you have each other, and you always will. Two old fucks can’t change that. Okay?” 

I bite my lower lip and nod slowly, staring at the dirty washcloth between my hands. Saige has lost a lot in life, and so have I. It’s hard not to let it all hit me at once during times like this. 

“I’m sorry Hats brought up Samuel,” Jackson says, reading my mind like he’s always been able to.

My throat clogs and I shake my head vigorously to ward off the imminent tears. Of course, Samuel crosses my mind as much as he would if he were alive. When the girls are at the playground, I imagine what he might look like running ahead of them, or sitting beside me eating a snack. I wonder if he’d like to play sports, or if he’d be hopeless at them like I am. I always picture his gorgeous little face. I wonder what our reality would look like now if he hadn’t died - would Jackson and I still be married? Would Harriet exist at all? Life would be so much different. Samuel opens up that black hole in my mind, and it makes me wish for things that could never be. It’s not a good place for me to go, let alone stay. Especially right now, when I’m in such a fragile state.

“It’s not her fault,” I say, voice coming out raspy and harsh because of the lump in my throat. “It’s good that she thinks about him.” 

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Sometimes I wonder how much she does. You think it’s as much as we do?”

I shrug. “Probably not. There are some days where that’s all I do.” 

“Me, too,” he admits, and I don’t show it - but that’s new information for me. 

While we were experiencing the aftershocks of Samuel’s death, we separated further than we’d been for years. I felt like I barely knew him, and he felt he couldn’t talk to me. We created a stormy sea between us when we should’ve been on the same front for battle. It didn’t make much sense. But then again, neither did the fact that our first and only son died. 

I’ve found that a lot of things in life don’t make sense, yet for some reason we keep rolling with the punches. That’s just the way it works, and there’s no changing it. 

We work in silence for a bit longer until the kitchen is clean. After that, we both pause and take notice of the other across the room, and I take the first step towards him. I wrap my arms tight and low around his waist and he hugs me close, face pressed against the top of my head while I listen to his heartbeat. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he assures me, and by the confidence in his voice I can’t help but try and believe him. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

…

A week later, I go back to work and Saige to school. It’s difficult, to say the least, stepping into the place where Matthew and I used to come together every morning,  while feeling everyone’s eyes on me. Everyone who was at the funeral, who saw me at my lowest, is now expected to work alongside me today. It makes me sick to my stomach. 

I try and keep my mind as busy as I can, but it’s a task that proves much more difficult than I imagined. Treating the homeless and misfortunate in a free clinic is rewarding enough, but there’s no surgery and no sense of urgency. The people are mostly kind and I fit nicely here, but the sense that something is missing is stronger than ever. I come to the conclusion that it’s most definitely because Matthew isn’t here. We usually work as partners, and now there’s no opportunity for that.

My coworkers offer sympathy, flowers and death casseroles. That’s what I’ve come to call them - death casseroles. They don’t taste good, and all I do is throw them out as soon as I get the chance. What these people don’t realize is that in this time of mourning, I’m cooking more than ever. Jackson and the girls are eating better than usual. I don’t need their pity food, but I’m not the type of person to turn down someone who’s just trying to help. 

As I’m coming back from lunch, I’m lost inside my head. I have my eyes downcast as I walk, watching my shoes with every step, and because of this I almost run right into a colleague. 

“April,” she says, steadying my shoulders. “There’s someone here looking for you.”

I frown and ask, “Who?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He looks official. He’s standing at the front desk.” 

“Okay…” I say, then make my way there.

As I get closer, I see a suited man standing in front of the glass wearing a poker face. It’s not anyone I know, so I can’t help but wonder if something bad happened to yet another person I love. My stomach twists with worry as I get closer, and I brace myself for the bad news that either Jackson or one of the girls is hurt. I don’t know how I’ll come back from it, but it’ll be better to deal with it now than wait. Maybe they’re just hurt, not dying, and I can do something to fix it. I have to find out first, though. 

“Um, can I help you?” I say, approaching him. 

For some reason, I turn numb. Beautifully numb. Not scared, not sick, not anxious. The thought crosses my mind: how could things possibly get worse? 

“April Kepner?” the man says, turning to face me. 

“That’s me,” I say, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. 

He hands me a stack of papers tucked inside an official-looking manila folder. “You’ve been served,” he says, then slips the folder into my hand before turning to walk away. 

I let him leave. I don’t watch him go, either. I just stare at the parcel in my hand and flip open the cover - the first thing I see makes my heart plummet to my feet. 

> **IN THE FAMILY COURT OF KING COUNTY, WASHINGTON**
> 
> **In Re: The child of Matthew Taylor and Karen Taylor.**

I drop the folder to the ground and just stand there, frozen. Everyone’s eyes are on me, singeing my skin and lighting me on fire, and I’ve never wanted to run more than I do right now. 

The Taylors are trying to take Saige. Just like I thought they would. Just like I knew they would.

I kneel slowly and pick the folder up, gathering the strewn papers. Then, I turn to the secretary sitting behind the glass and say, “I quit,” with glazed-over eyes and a voice stuck in monotone.

“What?” she responds. 

I say it once more, a sentiment thrown over my shoulder as I head towards the door. 

“I quit,” I say, and it’s a finality. 

It’s a period marking the end of the sentence of my three years here. It was never my choice to come, I didn’t have any agency over my work. And now, there’s no point. Everything is being taken from me, and I don’t need to devote the last of my energy to a job I’m so passionless about. 

So, I walk out and head home. My house, the one I shared with Matthew and the one Saige and I have been staying in again for the last few days. I strip off my work clothes and throw them away. I put the last of his boxes into the basement and sit on the edge of the bed we once shared stark naked and cold. 

What’s left? My baby is being taken away. I have no job. My husband is long gone, buried in the ground. My life is withering away, pared away by a knife to find a wick that’s no longer green - but dead and crumbling. 

At 3:15, I leave the house to get Saige from school. I’m on time every single day, because I’m a good parent and I know that. I’m the best thing that Saige could have been left with, but now the Taylors want to raise her instead. 

As I look at her smile while she comes out, two braids slapping her shoulders, I see a future being ripped away from me. I see myself being ostracized from their family gatherings and a little girl being brainwashed to believe I was never meant for her. Or worse, they’ll erase my existence entirely. She’s only three years old; what are the odds she’ll remember me when she’s ten, if they don’t want her to?

“Hi, honey-bunny,” I say, kneeling to take her into my arms. I resist the urge to cry. I’ve done enough of that over the past week, and it scares her. I don’t want her to feel that way, even if I do. “How was your day?”

I stand up and she takes my hand. “Good,” she says. 

“Anything exciting happen?” 

“Nope,” she says, swinging my arm. 

I help her into the car seat and walk around to the driver’s side. For a moment too long, I just sit there with my hands on the wheel and stare ahead without a destination in mind. I stay lost in my thoughts until her little voice pipes up from the back, innocent and questioning. 

“Where we goin’, mama?” she asks. 

I blink a few times. I don’t want to go home; it still smells like him. It will probably always smell like him. 

“Jackson’s,” I say, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “You wanna see your sissy tonight?”

“Yeah!” she says, kicking her legs. “Another sleepover? Please, please?” 

“Sure,” I say, backing out of the parking spot. “Anything you want.”

Because how much longer will I be able to give her anything at all? 

…

Saige and I sit on Jackson’s front porch until he gets home, which ends up being a few hours later. Harriet must have gone to after-school care today. I should’ve remembered; I would have picked her up myself had I realized. 

But they pull up around 7 o’clock as Saige is leaning against my side, both of our knees bent as our feet rest on the step below. She jumps to a standing position as soon as the car pulls in, and Harriet rolls down her window to shout out of it. 

“Sissy!” she squeals. “Dada, my little sissy is here!” 

I can’t hear Jackson’s response, but I see his face soon enough. He comes around with a messenger bag over his shoulder and opens Harriet’s door, looking confused. Saige and Harriet run towards each other and hug so hard they fall onto the grass in a fit of giggles, and he saunters up to me with a curious expression in his eyes. 

“What’s up?” he says, tipping his head slightly to one side. 

“I…” I stammer, and look towards the girls. They’re laughing and rolling around without a care in the world. Now isn’t the time. I don’t want them to see me cry again. So, all I ask is, “Can we stay?” 

He follows my eyes to the girls, then looks back to my face. Judging by the way his face changes, I can tell he knows there’s something more. “Sure,” he answers. “Come on in. Shoulda texted me. I coulda told you where the hide-a-key is. Or just come home early. I wasn’t doing much, just making up hours.” 

I know it’s my fault he had to make up the hours, so I can’t help but feel guilty. It weighs on me like a sickness. 

“We were fine,” I say. “It’s nice out.”

“Still,” he says, unlocking the door. “No good staying outside when there’s a perfectly good house right here. Come on, girls! Come in.” 

I can’t snap myself out of the fog I’m in for obvious reasons, so Jackson makes dinner. It isn’t anything fancy, only spaghetti, but the girls go wild over it. And I have to admit, it does taste really good after a horrible day. By the end of the meal, my stomach is full and I’m somewhat comforted. 

After a bath, the girls go down easy in the same bed like they’ve gotten used to. Jackson walks downstairs after putting them to bed himself, and I’m sitting in the middle of the couch still in my clothes from earlier. I didn’t bring pajamas this time. I’d been thoughtless while leaving. 

“You look uncomfortable,” he says, making his way over. “Bring any PJs with you?” 

I shake my head no. 

“Alright. Hold on.” 

He disappears up the stairs and comes back down with a bundle of clothes in his hands. When he gives them to me, I set them on my lap and notice a pair of boxers and a t-shirt that Harriet must have gotten him for father’s day that says ‘DAD: THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND.’ 

“It’s a little small on me,” he says. “My mom helped her and always sizes me down. So, I thought it’d work a little better for you.” 

“Thanks,” I say, and manage the first smile all day. “The boxers are gonna fall off, though.” 

“Well, I didn’t wanna assume you’d just wear your underwear. Figured you’d call me a skeeve.” 

I snort softly. “I don’t care,” I say. “It’s just my legs.” 

“Right,” he says. “I’ll let you change, then. You want something to drink?” 

I shake my head and he leaves the room anyway, assumedly to grab something for himself. I slip off my pants and stay in my black hipster underwear, shedding my bra to pull the soft t-shirt over my head. No matter how much it’s ‘sized down’ for him, it’s still huge on me. It rests at mid-thigh and billows around my midsection, but it’s more comfortable than anything I’ve worn in a long time. 

When he comes back, he’s fighting a smile and I don’t bother asking him for what reason. I already know - he always loved seeing me in his clothes.

“So, tell me,” he says, sitting down after setting two glasses of water on the table. “What’s going on?” 

I rest against the back of the couch and bend one leg up in front of me. “I quit my job today,” I say, no precursor. 

His eyes bug out of his head. “Wait, what?” 

I nod slowly, staring down at the tan fabric of the couch. “Yeah. And I got served papers by the Taylors.” I look up at him, eyes shimmering and lower lip quivering. “They’re taking her, Jackson.” 

My placid veneer shatters then as I break down in tears. I cover my face with my hands and my shoulders curve inwards, deflated by emotion.

“Shit,” he hisses, the scoots forward to take my wrists. He pulls them away from my face to look in my eyes and says, “Hey. Listen.” 

I can’t, though. I’m hicupping with sobs and I can barely catch my breath. “I feel so alone,” I wail, shaking my head furiously. “Nothing is going right. Everyone is against me. When it’s not one thing, it’s another. I can’t have anything! It all gets taken away. I’m alone, Jackson. I’m just alone.” 

“Hey,” he says again, holding my wrists firmer now. “I want you to hear me when I say this. You’re not alone.” 

I sniffle and blink hard, eyelashes sticking together with tears as I try and keep steady on his face. 

“I’m in your corner. I always have been, and I always will be. We’ll get through this together, as a team. We always do. Right?” He reaches forward and thumbs away a few of my tears. “I promise. I promise, we’ll get through this. I’ll be here to help you.” 

I sniff again, letting the word ‘promise’ soak into my skin like a salve. I always used to tell him he wasn’t the type of man to make a promise he couldn’t keep, and that always held true. He never said things he didn’t mean. So, the fact that he’s saying this to me right now is a comfort. As much as anything could be comforting right now. 

I stare into his eyes for a few beats and then throw myself forward. I drape my arms over his shoulders and relax against his body, soothed with he reciprocates the hug and pulls me even closer by the small of my back. 

It’s grounding, our physical contact, and it always has been. On days where I felt separated from him or we’d been distant, at night we’d always reconnect with sex. And it wasn’t a stress-reliever or a way to release pent-up emotions. It was really, honestly, how we got to the same plane after a long day of being so different. I’d open up my body for him and he’d reclaim it, and I’d mark him everywhere to remind him who he belonged to. And he’d brand my skin with his teeth, his fingers, his tongue, just as well.

With our lips seared together on those nights and our bodies connected in the most primal way, we were reminded of who we were and where we started. Though sex would get rough on more nights than not, it was never anything less than tantalizing and relaxing at the same time. His body moving on top of and inside mine put me in a place of zen that I haven’t been able to find since. 

And the aftermath was almost as good, when we’d be tangled up naked and glowing from what we made. We’d always try to get as close as possible, much in the way we’re doing now. With him, I could never be close enough. There was always a way I could inch my body a little tighter, a little nearer, cuddled a little more snug.

I feel that way in this moment, too. I press my face into his neck and dig the pads of my fingers into his shoulder blades, and he hitches my waist further forward so it’s flush against his. And if I were a little braver, a little less wounded, I might go so far as to wrap my bare legs around his waist and hug him with every limb I have. But I don’t do that.

I do close my eyes and let myself get lost in the memories we’ve made together. The ones that don’t cross my consciousness anymore come back at full force - from when we were best friends as residents, how he was the only one who was ever on my side. How after we had sex for the first time, he was so attentive when I was nothing but a jerk to him. How, when we had the pregnancy scare, he suggested marriage instead of running away. And when we were actually married, how he’d come to church just for my company.

There’s no doubt he’s a better person than I’ll ever hope to be. I’m lucky enough just to know him - because now, years after we became best friends, years after we were married and then divorced, he’s putting me first yet again. 


	4. Chapter 4

**JACKSON**

With April’s heartbeat so close, it’s hard not to think of how things used to be. 

I can still clearly remember the last time we were intimate, and it didn’t feel anything like this. Right now, I feel close to her in every sense of the word. Mentally, emotionally, and above all - physically. But the last time we had sex was when we were still living together, and Harriet wasn’t very old. It was an act of convenience and routine, mostly. We weren’t married, but I think there was something in both of us that wanted to reignite that flame. 

But neither of our heads were in the right places, and the spark didn’t light. The intermittent sex during those months was passionless, dry and usually ended without a climax from her. I still feel guilty over that. Because I know how to make her come - I know better than anyone. But back then, we weren’t close enough for me to do what she needed me to. All we had the space for was regular old missionary sex, and sometimes that just isn’t good enough. 

I close my eyes and wrap my arms tighter around her, breathing in the way she’s always smelled. She makes a small sound as I squeeze her, and I smile to myself because of it. If the circumstances were different and we were this close for other reasons, I would turn my head and kiss her neck. Slow, open-mouthed, and full of heart. She loves neck kisses. When we were married and I wanted my way with her, all it took was a few neck kisses and she turned to putty in my hands.

I don’t kiss her now, though. It would be wildly inappropriate; her husband died only weeks ago. But instead, I map my hands wider on her back and pull her closer by as much as I can. There’s admittedly not much more breathing room between us.

She lets me, though, and her body complies. She holds my shoulders a little tighter and presses her body against mine so her stomach pushes on my ribcage as she breathes evenly - in and out, in and out. 

We don’t say anything, because we don’t need to. After knowing someone for a certain amount of time, silence speaks louder than words do. Right now, this intimacy is all either of us need. There are no ulterior motives; it’s grounding to be near her like this. It reminds me of the place we began, and how much we’d love each other then. A pure love, a best friendship sort of love, the kind of love that solidified her place as my favorite person. 

I want to say it now, that I love her. But I’m too worried she’ll interpret it the wrong way, and I’ll have dug an impossible hole for myself. So, I keep quiet and continue to hold her, telling her in the best way we’ve ever known how. I rub her back up and down her knobby spine, and try to remember all the special times we’ve been intimate.

I remember the first time, in the hotel room in San Francisco. Room 623, to be exact. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll ever forget that one. I couldn’t believe it while it was happening, and sometimes, even many years later, I still have a hard time wrapping my head around it. 

She was so confident that night. She even let me go down on her, which I hadn’t expected. It took her a few more times to feel comfortable enough to try it on me, but once she went there - she didn’t go back. 

But I can’t think about that now. If I start, my mind will end up in a very dangerous place that it shouldn’t travel to with her basically on top of me. It would turn a heartwarming moment into something very, very awkward. 

I squeeze her once more, then pull back to look at her face. She’s as beautiful as she ever was. 

“You should get some sleep,” I tell her, caressing the apple of her cheek with my thumb. 

She leans into my hand and I keep stroking her skin, seeing how much it comforts her. I can’t help but wonder if Matthew ever did this - these small things she so clearly loves - to make her happy. 

I’d do anything to make her happy. And at one point in my life, that meant letting her go. 

But now, she’s back in my lap again and our situation is so much different than I ever imagined it’d be. But above everything, she’s here, I’m here, and we’re together. And whenever that’s the case, we always make something of it.

“I’m tired,” she says, and her voice shows it. 

“You can take the bed upstairs,” I say, and she crawls off of me. I miss her body heat immediately. “I put fresh sheets on it a couple days ago, so it’s all set.” 

She crinkles her eyebrows just a bit. “Are you sure?” she asks. 

“Positive,” I say. “I like this couch, anyway.” 

She nods without putting up a fight and stands, lingering for a moment before going anywhere. She stands in place like she wants to say something, but when I look to her face, her mouth is closed. Her eyes tell me everything I need to know, though; they’re swirling with emotions, overflowing with words unsaid. I won’t push her to say them, though. When she’s ready, she will. 

“Night, then,” she says. “See you in the morning.” 

I smile gently at her. “Night, babydoll.” 

I watch her walk all the way up the stairs until she disappears, then switch off the lamp beside me. Once I’m swathed in darkness, I lay on my side and close my eyes as I try to sift through the thousands of thoughts swimming inside my head.

I do eventually fall asleep, though, after a good amount of time spent contemplating my feelings. The couch is comfortable and I slip deeper than I’m sometimes even able to go in my bed. The only thing that wakes me up much, much later is a tap to the arm. And even that doesn’t bring me to the surface right away. 

“Jackson,” I hear, in the recesses of my mind. It’s far back, not quite strong enough to catch my wakeful attention. It seems like I’m still in a dream. “Jackson.” 

The touch to my arm comes again, and I begin to rouse. I press my lips together as my eyes creak open, and confusedly see April standing in front of the couch in her pajamas. The room is still dark, so I’m confused as to why she’s here. It’s not morning yet. I don’t even have the mental clarity to check my phone to see what ungodly time it is. 

“Dolly?” I say, still half-gone. 

Her shoulders are hunched by her ears, and her arms are crossed. Her face looks uncomfortable, but I can’t be sure why. All she’s doing is standing there, unspeaking. 

“What’re you doing up?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. 

“I can’t sleep,” she mutters, like she’s admitting to doing something wrong. She can’t look at me; her eyes are downcast towards the carpet.

“Oh,” I say, mind still very cloudy. “Well, c’mere.” 

She looks up and I scoot over, back against the couch cushions as I lay on my side. I make room for her and lift the blanket so she’ll crawl under it, and she only hesitates for a moment before following through.

“There you go,” I say, eyes already threatening to close again. 

She rests her head on the pillow next to mine - there isn’t room for another - and faces out. The couch isn’t big, so much in the way we’d been the other morning, our bodies are pressed right up against each other. Her warmth is comforting in my sleepy state, and I pull her closer out of habit and rest my face against the back of her shoulder.

Her muscles relax after a few seconds, and she inadvertently pushes back against me, a little closer, a little more comfortable. I let out a long breath and throw one arm over her side, just to keep her from falling off the couch, I tell myself. 

I can tell she’s still awake, eyes probably open though I can’t see them. I tuck one foot between her ankles and nuzzle my nose against her t-shirt, hoping to soothe her in the best way I know how. With subtle affection, she loves that. 

“Try and sleep,” I mutter. 

“I can’t,” she answers instantly, sounding exasperated and sad. 

She rolls over to face me, dislodging my foot in the process. But when she gets comfortable again, she mirrors the action and slips her leg between mine and takes my arm back, positioning it around her side. And she copies that, too. She drapes her arm over my side and looks at me through her eyelashes; I can’t remember the last time we laid this close. 

“You can’t,” I say, eyelids drooping and voice slow. “It’s been a long day, I’m sure you can.” 

“I can’t stop thinking.”

“Mmm…” I say, eyes fully closed now as I remember what I always used to do to help her fall asleep when she couldn’t. Without hesitating, I move to run my fingernails gently down her arm, feeling goosebumps rise in my wake. “That feel good?” I ask.

“You don’t have to,” she says.

“Does it feel good?” 

“Yes… of course it does.” 

I don’t say anything else. I just keep tickling her arm, and eventually move to her hair. I weave my fingers through the tendrils near her temple, brushing them back from her face and slowly combing the locks. She’s a sucker for getting her hair played with and arm tickled, and again I know that better than anyone. She’s like a baby that way; she’s comforted by small, routine things. 

Her eyes close as I continue to stroke her head, petting hair away from her face, and I just watch her. Though I know she’s not feeling as much, she looks so peaceful with her head tucked next to mine, lips slack and eyes closed. I’ve missed seeing her this way.

Before she falls completely under, she does something in her sleep-state that I never thought she’d do again. I never thought we’d be in the position for her to. She scoots a bit closer, presses her chest against mine, and slips a hand underneath the back of my t-shirt. She spreads her fingers out over my bare skin and slackens completely, calmed into a state of bliss by the nearness of us. 

I can’t stay awake for much longer, either. Being this close is just as soothing for me as it apparently is for her, so when I close my eyes, I stay gone for the rest of the night.

In the morning, I wake up to April’s eyes already on me. She looks away quickly like she’s embarrassed, but I smile to let her know I don’t think it’s weird. Because I don’t; if the tables were turned, she probably would’ve woken up to me staring at her, too. 

“Morning,” I say.

“Hi,” she says, and goes to push back the blanket, unwinding her legs from mine to get up.

“Hey,” I say, voice raspy. “Where’re you going?” 

“I-I figured you wouldn’t want to… lay here together anymore,” she says.

“Come back,” I say. “Kids aren’t up, it’s not even 6.” 

“What?” 

I lift my arm again and motion for her to fall against my side. “I’m not ready to get up yet,” I say. “And you’re warm. So, come back.” 

She smirks a little, but tries to hide it which makes her dimple pop. She crawls back under the blanket and gravitates to my side, arms tucked close to her chest unlike last night, when she had them wrapped around me. But things are always different in the morning. 

I don’t let things become stagnant, though. I raise one arm and move back part of her hair that’s fallen in her face, and she looks up through her eyelashes when I do.

“You’ve been so sweet to me,” she murmurs, lips barely moving. I watch them, though, with intensity - for reasons I’m not entirely sure of. 

“What do you mean?” I ask. 

She tips her head so we’re face-to-face, noses nearly touching. We’re breathing in each other’s space, but it isn’t weird at all. I’m used to her like this, as she is me. I feel completely at ease, and I can tell she does, too. Though she doesn’t want to admit that much to herself. 

“You didn’t have to take us in,” she says. “You don’t have to do any of what you’re doing. But you are.” 

I smile a little and chuckle softly, just once. “You say it like it’s an obligation.” 

“For most people, it would be,” she says, very seriously. “But for you, it’s not. It never has been.” 

“Because it’s you,” I say. “You and those babies. You guys need help, I’m there. Always.” 

She pauses for a moment, turning over what to say next. “But I married him,” she says. 

“I dated Maggie.” 

“I married him in front of you,” she says, eyes set on mine. “That was wrong. It was so selfish.”

I shake my head, lips turned down. “We’d been divorced for a long time.”

“It never felt like a long time, though,” she whispers. “It still doesn’t.” 

“No, you’re right,” I say, stroking her hair again. “It doesn’t.”

We’re quiet for a long moment, and I let my eyes trail over her face. She looks down, gaze trained on my chest, and I wonder what she’s looking at, if anything. More so, I wonder where her thoughts have gone. Because she’s not here with me anymore.

“Do you think I shouldn’t have done it?” she asks, and her chin is trembling. “Married him. It was a mess. It was always a mess. When we were happy, it came at a price. His attention came with a cost. And it was so short-lived.” 

Something twists in my chest as I realize there’s no correct answer; nothing I say would fit. It’s not my place to give her a resolution, a ribbon to tie this whole thing up with. It’s far from over, and there’s no Band-Aid to cover this wound. It has to stay open; it’s nowhere near healing. 

“I don’t think that’s my place to say,” I say. “Do  _ you _ regret it?” 

“I don’t know,” she answers, right away. “I got Saige out of it. But now…”

“Don’t say it,” I say. “That won’t happen. I already told you last night. We’re going to find a way to fix it. You’re her mother. She’s going to stay with you.”

“I’m not her blood, though,” she says, voice growing desperate. “They are. They’re going to use that against me and take it as far as they can.” 

“So, we’ll go further,” I say. “You’ve raised her for her entire life, basically. Where have they been? When’s the last time she saw them? At the funeral, they scared her. You saw that. It speaks for itself.”

April nods slowly, chewing on her lower lip. Gently, I reach over and tug it out from between her teeth, and she smiles at me with her eyes only.

“You’re still my best friend,” I say. “In case you needed reminding.” 

“You’re mine, too,” she says, and rolls onto her back to stare at the ceiling. 

I make a bold move and rest a hand on her stomach, and she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she moves to overlap my hand with her own and traces the veins on top. I smile to myself and keep my eyes on the side of her face, just resting there while she blinks and sifts through her thoughts yet again. Her mind is obviously busy, as I can only imagine. 

I rub her stomach slowly, subtly, and she lets me. It’s out of habit more than anything - even when she wasn’t pregnant, she used to love when I rubbed her belly. I used to joke that she was more like a puppy than a human, and we’d always laugh. 

As I rub in circles, her shirt rides up. If it were years ago, I’d take advantage of the exposed skin and slip a hand underneath, but I don’t do that now. That would be crossing a line that I don’t dare to go near. It’s not the time. It would be wrong and inappropriate, and I am not that guy. 

Were the circumstances a bit different, the air a bit lighter, I might go for it. But not with all that’s been handed to her. It would be incredibly selfish. 

She turns her head to look at me and takes her hand away from mine to cup my cheek. We make prolonged eye contact before she smiles sadly and says, “Thank you.” 

I return the expression. “You’re welcome,” I say. 

I resist saying what I want to:  _ You know I’d do anything for you. _ Because I hope she already knows.

…

Just as I’m about to leave for work and take the girls to school, I stop and catch April’s attention as she helps Saige into her shoes. Ever since we got up from the couch, she’s been withdrawn and sunken into herself. I know the reason, but I miss her sparkly eyes and smile. I know it’s a lot to ask to see them again, so I’ve been trying to conjure up their image in the back of my mind. 

“Mama go to work, too?” Saige asks, looking at April with those round eyes of hers. 

“Mama quitted,” Harriet pipes up, grabbing her umbrella from the bench near the door. “So, what are you gonna do all day, mama?” she asks. “Watch TV and eat candy?” 

April laughs humorlessly. My best guess is that she’ll look into getting a lawyer today, but obviously that’s not something the girls need to be privy to. 

“I’m gonna watch all your recorded shows without you,” she jokes. 

“No!” Saige says. “Are you just kidding, mommy?” 

April smiles, but I see right through it. “Of course I am,” she says. “I don’t know what I’ll do. But I’m sure I’ll find some way to entertain myself while you guys are gone.” 

“Are we gonna stay here all together more?” Harriet asks, looking between myself and her mother with a hopeful expression on her face. 

I look to April and wait for her answer. It’s not up to me; I already made her very aware that they’re welcome for as long as they’d like to stay. 

“For a little bit longer, yeah,” April says. 

“Yay!” the girls chorus, and group near the door while I take a few steps closer to April.

“You gonna be alright today?” I ask, and she looks up from her place on the stairs.

“Yeah,” she says, though it’s not very convincing. “I have a few law offices to call.” 

“Good,” I say. “Feel free to call me if you get bored. I don’t have a busy day. In fact, you could even come and visit if you felt like it.” 

“That might be fun,” she says. “But I don’t know.” 

“And hey,” I say. “If you want, I could always throw in a good word for you over there at Grey Sloan. You know they hated to see you leave; I’m sure they’d welcome you back in a heartbeat. Hunt would move mountains for you.” 

“Oh, no,” she says, eyebrows crinkled. “I couldn’t.” 

Her mouth says one thing, but her eyes say another. In her eyes, I can see that she misses the trauma work she used to do. I always knew she wouldn’t be challenged with whatever she was doing with Matthew. It wasn’t enough for her; she’s an adrenaline junkie.

“You sure?” I ask, hoping she’ll change her mind.

“I really couldn’t ask that of them,” she says, looking away and not meeting my eyes. “It would be wrong.”

“Alright,” I say, still watching her. She’s not doing a very good job at convincing me. “Well, give me a shout if you change your mind. You know I have clout over there.”

She smiles weakly and waves us goodbye, still sitting there on the stairs as I close the door.

The girls chat with each other on the way to school, and my mind is busy with thoughts of my ex-wife and what she might be doing. I would’ve stayed home with her if I had the option, but unfortunately I don’t. So, the best I can do is think about her, shoot her a few texts, and encourage her to stop by.

After I drop the kids off, I head towards the hospital. I wasn’t kidding when I told April I had a slow day, so I don’t rush going inside and changing into my scrubs. I make my rounds and greet my long-term patients, taking the time to sit down with each of them and their families to discuss recovery plans, and it makes the morning go by quickly. 

I hadn’t planned to sit in the cafeteria and eat, but my good friend Callie flags me down before I have a chance to disappear into my office. 

“Hey, Avery,” she says, and I sit with her at an otherwise empty table. “You’ve been scarce lately. What’s new?” 

I sigh and debate whether or not to get into the full story. Around here, it’s not uncommon for everyone to know each other’s business, so it wouldn’t be anything new. Plus, out of anyone here at the hospital, Callie is the person I trust the most. After April left, she and I became a pair of unlikely friends. 

“I’ve been at home with April,” I say, unwrapping my sandwich. 

I can feel her eyes without having to look up, and I know exactly what expression her face has morphed into.

“You and Kepner?” she says. “Seriously?” She pauses for a moment. “Not gonna say I didn’t see it coming, but-” 

“It’s not like that,” I say, taking my first bite. “I’m sure you heard about Matthew Taylor and his accident.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I was here that night. It was awful.” 

“It was,” I say. “Since then, April’s been staying with me, along with her and Matthew’s daughter, Saige.” 

Callie’s eyebrows screw up. “They had a…?” 

“She’s not biologically April’s,” I say. “She’s was between Matthew and his previous wife. But April adopted her, and she’s the only mother that little girl has ever known.” I nod. “Yeah. They’ve been staying with us.” 

“And how’s that been going?” she asks. 

“Um…” I trail off, letting my thoughts formulate as I chew. “It’s interesting.” 

She laughs knowingly. “I bet. You guys screw yet?” 

“Hey,” I say, eyes wide. “Whoa.” 

“What?” she says. “Why else would she still be at your house? That was where my mind went first, my bad.”

“No,” I say, furrowing my eyebrows. “It’s not… not like that.” 

“So, why’s she there?”

I sigh. “The Taylors want to take Saige from her,” I say. “And it’s tearing her up. She doesn’t know how to deal with it, so I said I’d help as much as I can.” 

“Jesus,” Callie says. “Custody battles can get ugly. I would know.” 

“I know,” I say. “And she’s already at such a low point. I think she feels bad for not feeling bad enough, you know what I mean? Judging by a few things she’s said, she and Matthew’s marriage wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies.” 

Callie snorts. “Well, did you expect it would be? You can’t marry a cardboard box and expect it to love you. She did that to herself.” 

“She thought she was doing what was best,” I say. 

“Well,” she says. “I can imagine she’s feeling guilty. Not necessarily for being glad he’s gone, but…” She lets a breath from her nose. “There might be a certain feeling of relief there. I can only imagine that paired with the fear of her daughter being taken away is creating a tsunami of emotions.” She shakes her head. “I bet she appreciates you being there.” 

“I hope,” I say. “I just want her to know she’s not alone. She keeps saying she is.” 

Callie eyes me and I’m not sure why.

“What?” I snap. 

She lifts her eyebrows and raises her palms in mock-surrender. “Hey, hey, I didn’t say anything,” she says. 

“You didn’t have to. What is it?” 

She purses her lips and looks to the side, blinking rapidly. “You kinda let her feel that way for a while, though, didn’t you?” 

“Okay,” I say. “That was forever ago. That was before Harriet was even born.” 

“But it still happened,” she says. “She never wanted that divorce, and she felt you forced her hand.” 

“How do you know?” I bark. 

“My wife is your ex-wife’s best friend. You think I don’t know things? Come on, Avery. Keep up.”

My jaw tightens. “Still, that was forever ago. I wish I’d… we’d… done things differently, too. But we can’t take it back now. I really don’t think she’s thinking about that anymore.” 

“Maybe not,” Callie says. “You’re probably right. But you don’t just forget how that primal loneliness feels. If you’re wondering why she brings it up, that’s why. She’s scared you’ll leave, and then what? She won’t even have her white bread Christian fallback.” 

I let those words sit with me and soak in. I don’t think about mine and April’s tumultuous divorce often, because it never comes with good memories. I remember going for each other’s necks and causing the other as much pain as we could. Those people weren’t ones I recognized; they weren’t us. I didn’t enjoy hurting her, but I was on the defense constantly. I didn’t want to get hurt by her in the way I did when she left a second time. I couldn’t deal with that abandonment, and I promised myself I wouldn’t put myself in the position to be left all over again. 

But I know how it feels to be an island, like no one is on your side. And if she feels like that now, or is scared she’ll feel that way soon, the best I can do is make sure it doesn’t happen. The best way I can prove it is through my actions, so that’s what I’ll do. 

“What’s goin’ on in there?” Callie asks, tilting her head. 

“Just… thinking,” I say, wrinkles appearing on my forehead from my whirring thoughts. 

“Ah, so I did spark something,” she says. 

“I want her to know I won’t leave her,” I say. “I’m not the same as I was back then. Neither is she. It was a long time ago. We’re better now.” 

Callie just watches me, she doesn’t say anything. 

“What?” I say. 

“I know a lot of things, Avery,” she says. “I’m good at reading people. Very good at it, actually. And what I know is that you’re still in love with her.” 

“What?” I say. 

She quirks her eyebrows. “I don’t need to repeat myself.” 

I open my mouth to refute her, but no sound comes. I sputter for a few moments, looking more like a fish than I’d like to admit, and shake my head softly. But still, I can’t find it within myself to argue. 

“You don’t have to defend yourself,” she says. “It wouldn’t work, anyway. You’re not exactly good at hiding it.” 

I press my lips together and give her a look of defeat. I don’t have much of anything to say for myself. 

“But does she know about...?” Callie asks. “After Pierce, when you were with-” 

“No,” I say, quickly, urgently. “I don’t talk about that. I don’t think about that.” 

“Geez,” she says, backing off. “Just a question.” 

“I’m not proud of that phase,” I say. “I try not to revisit it.” 

“Totally understood,” she says, then glances at the clock. “Well. I should get back to work, but I’m glad we were able to have this therapy session.” 

I chuckle a bit, which makes my shoulders bounce. “Me, too. Thanks.” 

“Tell Kepner she should stop by sometime soon. I promise I won’t show her the heart on your sleeve if she does.”

“Yeah,” I say, throwing the word over my shoulder as she leaves. “I’ll be sure to pass the word on.” 

…

As the day goes by, I find myself getting more and more excited to see April at the end of it. But just as I’m about done for the day, an emergency burn victim comes in and needs immediate attention, and I know any hope I had of going home is dashed.

I text April and let her know to pick the girls up from school, then throw myself into work. I’m in the OR for hours on end trying to salvage what I can of this man’s upper body, and by the time I’m finished and done the best I can, he’s in recovery and will begin skin graft treatment tomorrow. 

My feet are tired, and I’ve never wanted to leave more. It’s past 10pm and the sun has long past set, but as I drive home I can’t help hoping April is still awake. 

When I pull in the driveway, though, I let go of that hope. Most of the lights in the house are off, besides the ones in the living room, where I assume she is. I walk through the front door quietly, take off my shoes and jacket, and listen to a nearly-silent house. The TV is playing gently, the kids are clearly asleep, and the house is shut up for the night. It feels peaceful in a way it doesn’t very often. It feels like a home. 

I walk through the entryway and past the dining room table, where I see pages printed out from different law firms. I see profiles of custody lawyers that she must be deciding between, because the pages are marked up with pen with things crossed out and circled. I pause only for a moment as I scan them, then move towards the source of the yellow light. 

Just as I suspected, April is asleep on the couch with a throw blanket over her legs. The TV is playing a show I don’t recognize, and her hand is poised loosely over the remote resting on her stomach. Her head is turned to one side, chin against her chest, lips pushed out. It seems like she’s been asleep for a while and is deeply gone. 

I smile as I watch her, so undisturbed and peaceful. I wonder what she’s dreaming about, if anything. I wonder how her day was, and if I crossed her mind as much as she crossed mine. I’m not sure if that’s possible, though. She barely left my head all day. 

I can’t help it. I lower to my knees and rest next to her for a moment, studying her twitching eyelids before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, right between her eyebrows. I stroke the top of her head and she lifts her chin a bit, adjusting, and inhales deeply from her nose. 

When her eyes blink open, it comes as a surprise. I hadn’t meant to wake her, but I’m almost glad I did. Her mossy green eyes bring me home at the end of a very long day. They’re all I’ve been waiting to see. 

“Hey, dolly,” I say, keeping my voice low. 

“Mmm…” she hums, making a sleepy, raspy sound. 

“It’s just me,” I say. 

“Mmm, baby,” she says, voice hoarse again as her eyes threaten to close once more. My stomach jumps at the term of endearment, said out of innate habit. “When’d you get home?”

“Just now,” I whisper, one hand on her head as I use my thumb to stroke her forehead, where my lips had just been. 

“I tried to stay up for you,” she murmurs, blinking heavy. 

“I see that,” I say, chuckling softly. 

“We going up to bed?” she asks, opening her eyes just to rub them. 

“Probably a smart choice,” I say, then turn the TV off. “I’ll get you set up in the master bedroom.” 

Slowly, she follows me up the stairs after I turn all the lights off on the first floor, and lays down on the side opposite mine in my big, white bed. She rolls onto her side and I retreat into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, and when I come out, I can only assume she’s fallen back to sleep. 

I’m wrong, though. I flick the light off and I’m on my way out the door when she rolls over and speaks in my direction. 

“Baby?” 

Twice in the span of ten minutes, I’m not sure how to handle being called that name again. I haven’t heard it come from her mouth in years, at least not directed towards me. I convince myself it must be her sleepy brain, and I won’t let myself read into it. 

“I’m here,” I say, pausing to turn around.

She rolls over to face me, brushing her hair out of her eyes while pulling the rest of the covers back. 

“Will you stay?” she asks. “I don’t sleep good without you next to me.” 

I don’t hesitate. I walk back towards the bed with a soft feeling in my heart and say, “If you want me to, of course I’ll stay.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**APRIL**

It’s not a simple process, finding a lawyer to represent my case for the Taylor trial. There are hundreds of custody lawyers in Seattle, but I want to make sure I find the right one - good credentials, a kind face, with a history of winning. 

While Jackson is at work and the kids in school, I sit at the dining room table with an open laptop and find new law offices to call. I write down a group to tackle each day, so I don’t get overwhelmed with all the different options. Today, I’m calling Yang Ross Law Group, McKinley Irvin, and Lawgena of Washington. 

I become aware of the fact that my case is unlike most others. It’s not often the grandparents of a child try and take her away from an adoptive mother, so it’s hard to know where to begin in this process. I don’t know if I sound crazy on the phone, or if the lawyers think my case is silly and not worth their time.

The more I think about it, the more I can’t believe it’s really happening. When I married Matthew, this is the last thought I had. It never crossed my mind; I never thought I’d deal with his death. And when Saige, then Ruby, was born at Grey Sloan, I never thought I’d play a role in her life. Or that she would play such a huge one in mine. 

Of course, I still remember how life was before her arrival. I had Harriet, and at one point, I had Jackson. Things were good. But now, I can’t imagine this portrait without Saige’s freckled, smiling face. If our time together is cut short, if I can only see her a few times a year, I won’t live a full life. And neither will she. 

When I let the potential outcomes fester in my mind, I feel sick. I haven’t explained to Saige any of what might happen, or what will definitely happen during the court proceedings. She’s none the wiser; having been going about life as any three-year-old should. She’s having fun with her sister and Jackson, then cuddling with Mommy at night. Right now, her life is all she could ask for. I wish I could say the same.

I’ve never been more stressed than I am right now. I can’t think of a way this could get worse, but I don’t even let that thought cross my mind. Because as soon as it does, life will find something new to throw at me. I already have more than enough on my plate; I don’t need anything else. 

While I lean forward on the table with the phone in my hand, I decide not to waste any more time. I’ve spent long enough staring into space imagining worst-case scenarios, so I should probably keep taking steps towards saving both myself and my daughter. 

“Yang and Ross Law Offices, how can I help you?” 

The woman’s voice sounds less than amused, so much so that my breath catches and I find my eyebrows furrowing. 

“Hi, my name is April Kepner,” I say. “And I’m looking to set up an appointment with…” I squint at the web page to find the head attorney. “Cristina Yang?” 

“Yeah, that’s me,” she says. “Our receptionist is out with the stomach flu, so I’m wearing yet another hat. What can I do for you?” 

“Oh,” I say, stretching my fingers out on the table. “Well, I was hoping to schedule a consultation with you. I’m involved in a custody case, and I need representation.”

“Alright,” she says. “I happen to have a decently open schedule, especially at the moment. I just came back from lunch, and you caught me in a good mood. Tell me what I need to know.” 

“Seriously?” I ask. “Usually, it’s much more formal, I’ve been asked-” 

“Look, Ms. Kepner,” she says. “I’m the highest sought-after custody lawyer in King County, and I’m not afraid to come out and say it. I’m good, and I know it. So, the fact that I’m giving you the time of day should be enough.” 

“Excuse me,” I say, eyebrows raised. 

“Excused.” 

My mouth hangs open with surprise. I’m somewhat put off, but simultaneously intrigued by her confidence. It could be huge for us in the courtroom, especially if the Taylors hire a mild Christian lawyer much akin to them. Her personality could be a useful advantage. 

“Give me the rundown,” she says. “And I’ll tell you what I can do.”

“Okay,” I say, trying my best to keep up. “Well, my husband passed away a few weeks… a month, a bit more than a month ago. I adopted his daughter while we were married, and now that he’s gone, his parents want to take her because they see me as an unfit parent when I have never, ever shown evidence of being one. I have a biological daughter as well, with whom I split time equally with my ex-husband. He could be called as a witness to vouch for my parenting skills, he-”

“I get it,” she says. “How old is the child in question?” 

“Saige?” I say. “She’s three. And my Harriet is five. I’ve had a…” I open my mouth to talk about Samuel, but I rescind the almost-statement before it can escape. She doesn’t need to know about him; at least, not yet. And definitely not over the phone.

“And you don’t want the grandparents granted any custody at all?” she asks. 

“No,” I say, adamantly. “The’ve never spent meaningful time with her. She saw them most recently at her father’s funeral, and she was terrified of them. I can’t imagine a worse future for her than his parents being awarded custody. I really can’t.” 

“Okay,” Cristina says. “Well, this sounds like a high-risk case if I’ve ever heard one.” 

I feel crestfallen as soon as I hear those words. I let out a small sigh and stare down at the table, mentally preparing to call the next office on my list. 

“But that’s luckily what I specialize in. I take pride in what I do, Ms. Kepner, and I’d be happy to help. Custody cases can be traumatic, for any and all parties involved. The prospect of losing contact with your child is a frightening one, and I fully understand this. But I’ve litigated cases of parents facing accusations of mental illness, domestic violence, spousal abuse, child abuse, and abandonment. I have experience all across the board, and I’m confident in my skills to represent you and safeguard your interests.” 

“Oh,” I say, blinking hard as I take it in. “Thank you.” 

“This is going to be a rough, tumultuous path for everyone involved,” she says. “But the good news is that I’ve helped many clients through this process, and most parents have become decidedly stronger people as a result.” 

I laugh dryly. “I can only hope that’ll be me.” 

“I hope the same,” she says. 

“Well, I…” I say, sitting up straight against the back of the chair. “I’d love to hire you.” 

“Sounds great,” she says. “Come to my office tomorrow at 5. Let’s chat.”

....

That night, Jackson comes home with the kids earlier than expected, but it’s a pleasant surprise. When I’m alone working all day, I find myself missing his presence. I haven’t actively missed him in years, so it’s a feeling I have to get used to all over again. I’m much happier with him than without him. And, of course, the girls too. 

“Mama!” Saige cheers, barreling through the door without taking her shoes off. “Mama, we’re home!” 

“I see that,” I say, opening my arms for both of them. “Hello, hello!”

“Mommy!” Harriet sings, launching her body onto mine so powerfully I waver in the chair. 

“When did you both get so strong?” I laugh. “You almost knocked me over.” 

“Be careful of your little mama,” Jackson says, strolling over with a casual smile on his face. While he passes, he skims a hand over the top of my head and chuckles. “She’s fragile.” 

“No, she’s not!” Harriet says. “Tackle Mama!”

“Whoa!” I say, opening my mouth wide to laugh as they both cling to me like Velcro. “What’s this, two against one?!” 

“Daddy, help!” Harriet says, enlisting Jackson as he heads towards the kitchen. 

“Oh, you guys don’t want me to help,” he says.

“Yes, we do!” Saige calls.

“Help get Mommy! Help get Mommy!” Harriet chants, egging him on.

“Alright… you asked for it…” Jackson says, pretending to be foreboding. He turns around, arms curled so his biceps flex, and stomps towards the three of us. “I’m gonna get her! I’m gonna get your precious little mommy!” 

Saige and Harriet both scream with laughter as he stalks over, then squeal even louder when he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder like a potato sack. I hadn’t been expecting that, either, so my voice joins theirs in a fit of shrieks and giggles. 

“Jackson!” I say, playfully smacking his back. “Put me down!”

“The Daddy monster listens to no one!” he bellows. “The Daddy monster only knows how to throw people onto the couch and tickle them!” 

“Tickle her!” Saige encourages, and Harriet joins in. “Tickle her, tickle her!” 

I squirm and kick, but it’s no use because of how strong he is. I lose my breath from laughing so hard, and a huge exhale escapes me as he flops me onto the couch flat on my back, and smiles right into my face. 

I can’t catch my breath for more than one reason at that point. His smile is so pure and unadulterated, and his eyes sparkle with pure joy. I haven’t seen him look this way in years. 

“I got you now!” he threatens, and goes in for the kill. 

He digs at my sides with his fingers, making me flail and kick. But he has me outsmarted there, too, by sitting on my legs to keep me from getting away. 

“Jackson!” I scream, tossing my head to the side. “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe… oh god! Help!” I laugh louder than I have in forever, and both girls storm over and start attacking Jackson while he’s on top of me. “Get him, girls!” I say. 

“Girls against boys!” Harriet says, climbing onto Jackson’s shoulders.

“Hey!” he protests. “I thought we were getting Mommy!” 

“You’re naughty!” Saige says, giggling as she latches onto one of his bulky arms. “Off Mommy! You’re too big, mister!” 

Harriet cracks up, and I snicker as Jackson pretends to be offended. “Wow, little lady,” he says. “I guess you guys wanna tempt the Daddy monster, too, huh…” 

“No!” they chorus, but as they try to run away, he snatches them and I get up from the couch so he can plop them down in the same way he did me. “Gotcha!” he says, and I smile while watching how happy they all are. 

After the tickle-fest is done and everyone is red-faced and out-of-breath, the girls run up to Harriet’s room to play with her new dollhouse, and Jackson and I are left alone in the kitchen to make dinner.

“How was your day?” he asks, coming up behind me. I think he’s going to simply pass by, but instead he straightens my shirt so it lays flat. “Daddy monster ruffled ya a little,” he says, making sure it’s fixed.

“Oh,” I say. “Thanks.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“My day was good,” I say, rinsing broccoli florets under the faucet. “Um, I think I found a lawyer finally.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

I nod. “Yeah. She seems badass and down-to-business. She wants to meet tomorrow at 5, and I was hoping you’d come with.” 

He turns around after pulling a package of ground beef from the fridge, where it’d been thawing. “You want me there?” he asks.

“Well, yeah,” I say. “I don’t really want to go alone, and you did say we were in this together.” 

He chuckles. “We are. I meant that.” 

I smile in return. “So, yeah. I’d really like it if you came. It would make me feel a lot better about this whole thing.” I sigh. “Because right now, I’m not feeling all that great.” 

“I know you’re not, babydoll,” he says, scooting around me to throw the beef wrapper in the trash. “But, like I always say. We - you’re gonna get through this.” He nods solidly, placing two firm hands on my shoulders. “You know?” 

I nod slowly, then look to his hands. “I believe you,” I say. “But I’m gonna need you to get your beef-juice hands off my shirt.” 

…

When Jackson and I sleep in his bed, I’m overcome with how much it smells like him. That, and how much his scent hasn’t changed a bit in the years I’ve known him. 

“Do you still wear the same cologne?” I ask, lying on my stomach, head faced away from him as he crawls under the covers. I feel his body heat as soon as he lies down, and I like it. It’s something I’ve grown to need. 

We don’t purposefully cuddle most nights. But usually, in the morning, we find ourselves spooning. We haven’t talked about that yet. 

“Huh?” he asks. 

“Do you still wear the same cologne?” I ask, turning so he can hear better. 

He smiles. “Yeah. Why?” 

“You smell exactly the same,” I say. 

“As what?” 

“Jackson,” I say, lifting to rest on an elbow. “As before. You still smell the same.”

“Oh,” he says. “Well, so do you.” 

“I don’t have a smell,” I say. 

“Everyone has a smell,” he says. 

“Then what’s mine?” 

“What’s mine?” he counters. 

“That cologne,” I say. “I was the one who bought it for you, that first Christmas we were married.” 

“You got me hooked on it. It gets the ladies all titillated.” 

I snort. “Never say ‘titillated’ again,” I say, but eye him. “You’re not wrong, though. I chose it for a reason.” 

His eyes flash, and he opens his mouth to say something but ends up changing his mind. “That Clive Christian,” he says. “He sure knows how to work the women.” 

“Uh-huh,” I say, clearing my throat and lying back down. “But you didn’t answer me. What’s my smell?” 

“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s not really perfume. I’d say it’s more like lotion. It’s kinda warm, kinda earthy, a little sweet. Also, you always have some sorta mint on you.” 

I chuckle. “I remember you used to say that all the time.”

“And I remember always ending up with your mint gum in my mouth after making out with you,” he says. 

I cover my face to try and hide my smile, though he’s only matching the expression. He extends an arm to punch my shoulder playfully and I grin again, body jostling afterwards. 

“I know you’re laughing,” he says. 

“Go to bed,” I say, turning back over. 

“Don’t smile,” he says. “Whatever you do, just don’t smile.” 

“Jackson,” I say, trying to sound threatening. 

“Should I be scared right now?” he says, inching closer. Then, he caps a hand over my shoulder and peers into my face with wide eyes. “Should I?” 

“Go to sleep,” I say, trying to keep my smile at bay. “It’s late.” 

He sighs dramatically. “Okay, okay,” he says, then drops a casual, routine kiss to the back of my shoulder. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” I say, then close my eyes wearing the smile he gave me. 

…

The next day, I’m sitting at the counter eating cereal when the phone rings. I don’t get many calls during the day, so I wonder who it could be. When I look at the screen, I see a number I don’t have saved, so my first thought is that it’s the lawyer’s office calling to confirm our appointment tonight. So, of course, I answer. 

“Hello?” 

“April,” a voice says. “This is Marianne Taylor calling.” 

Matthew’s mother. Suddenly, my stomach plummets to my feet and I drop my spoon so it lands in my half-empty bowl with a loud, metallic sound. My mouth goes dry and, for a moment, I’m speechless. I’m so full of rage and distaste towards this woman that I don’t know what words would fit. 

But finally, I find my voice. “Hello,” I say, voice clipped. 

“I wanted to call and tell you that what you’re doing is despicable,” she says, like she’s prattling off a grocery list. “You’re desecrating the memory of my son with how you’re living in sin.” 

I blink hard, shaking my head from side to side. “Excuse me?” I say, voice rising in pitch. I slide off the stool and start pacing the room, unable to stay still.

“We stopped by your house,” she says, and I’m assuming by ‘we,’ she’s referencing herself and Matthew’s father, Clark. “And it looked as if it hadn’t been lived in for weeks.”

My heart freezes over and the tips of my fingers go numb. “Why were you at the house?” I snap. 

“Our church had gifts for you and Ruby,” she says. “But you weren’t home to receive them. And my guess is that you haven’t been home since my Matthew passed away.” 

“Marianne-” I say, but I don’t get to speak before she cuts me off. 

“Our minds were too clouded to recognize that man at the ceremony,” she continues. “But a few days later, we realized who you were with at the funeral. That Avery man, who ruined the wedding. Who humiliated my son in front of everyone he loves!” She makes a spiteful sound; she practically spits. “Matthew shouldn’t have stooped so low to marry you again. I told him, day in and day out, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He was always so stubborn. And, now look. You’re back to bedding up with the one you wanted all along. Isn’t that right? Behaving like the little redheaded whore you are.”

“Excu-” 

“And exposing Ruby to such a life. I mean, really, April! Have you taken a moment to think of anyone besides yourself?” She makes a sound of disgust. “This is why we’re taking her. We’re able to give her a life that’s much stabler than the roller coaster you’ve subjected her to. Imagine how frightened she must be! Imagine how confused. With her mother fornicating with a stranger every night, I can’t imagine how awful she must feel. And deep down, how awful  _ you _ must feel for giving her such a life. Or aren’t you capable of such self-reflection?” 

By now, I’m shaking. My entire body is vibrating, and the fury has nowhere to go but up and out. “Fuck you,” I say, voice scarily low. “Fuck you, Marianne. There’s no way in  _ hell _ -” 

I’m cut off yet again, but this time it’s with a dial tone. She hung up on me. 

I slam the phone onto the counter and scream, head thrown back and eyes pinched tightly closed. “Fuck you!” I shout again. 

I have so much hateful energy with nowhere to go, so I tug on a pair of leggings and a sports bra to head out for a run. I don’t jog often, but I couldn’t stay inside the house and let that anger fester. Nothing good was going to come of it.

By the time I’m home, I’m sweaty, spent, and significantly calmer. If she keeps making threatening phone calls like that, there’s no way the court will grant her custody of Saige. My lawyer won’t let that happen. I have to keep reminding myself of that. 

In my calmer state, my first instinct is to call Jackson and tell him everything. But when I pick up the phone and go for his contact in my ‘Most Recents,’ something pulls me back. I can’t help but remember Marianne’s awful words, and deep inside, I feel guilty. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so reliant on him. Maybe it was wrong to default to him as soon as Matthew was gone. What kind of person does that make me? What does that show Saige? I know she’s not thinking anything consciously, but what about subconsciously? Should I have dealt with all this on my own without relying on my best friend?

I shake my head to clear it. No. Marianne is wrong. Jackson is my best friend, and he always has been. Some close-minded, spiteful witch shouldn’t make me doubt the strength of our bond. He’s my first daughter’s father; I shouldn’t push him away because of the hateful things someone else said. She has no idea what our situation is like; she only sees me in the light she paints me in, and that won’t change.

I tell myself I don’t care how she sees me. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is how the judge sees me, and I’m determined to make sure that’s in a positive light.

…

Because the meeting is at 5 o’clock and being late isn’t an option, Jackson has no choice but to bring the kids when he meets me there. I get out of the car dressed nicer than I have been in weeks, and the girls hurry over to greet me. 

“You look fancy, mama,” Harriet says. 

“Mama’s pretty,” Saige says, wrapping her arms around my waist while tipping her head up to look at me. 

I touch her chin, then cup the side of Harriet’s face. “Thanks, babes,” I say. “How were your days?”

“Good,” Harriet answers. 

“Badder,” Saige says, then holds up her knee with a Band-Aid plastered across it. “I got owie at recess.”

“But Nurse Georgie putted a Band-Aid on it!” Harriet says, pointing at Saige’s knee like I might have missed it the first time. “Beanie fell down.”

“Oh, did you see it happen?” I ask. 

She nods vigorously. “Yeah. We were at the same recess. And she felled on the blacktop and screamed her head off.” 

“Oh, baby!” I say, kneeling down to Saige’s level after hitching my dress pants up a bit for slack. “Are you okay now?” 

“Yeah,” she says. “I gotted a Band-Aid and a sucker.” 

“Well, that fixes everything,” Jackson says, sauntering over. He gives me a quick nod. “Hey, doll.” 

“Hi,” I say, standing to my full height again. 

“Mama, I gave Beanie a hug when she falled and I was a really good sister,” Harriet says, tugging on the hem of my shirt. 

“Oh, lovey,” I say, bending at the waist to give her a lasting kiss on the forehead. “That’s so good of you. Thank you.” 

“Mommy,” Saige says, tucking her hand into mine subtly as we walk towards the building. “Why are we at this place?” 

I look to Jackson, wondering how I should explain it. I figured I’d have to, but in the car ride over I didn’t get much of a chance to go over what to say. I was still reeling from the phone call earlier. 

“Well,” I say, buying time as I swing her hand. “Me and Jackson need to talk to a lady about some important things. It won’t be exciting for you guys, but we couldn’t be late. So, you got to tag along, too.” 

“What important things?” Harriet asks, chiming in. 

I worry my bottom lip with my teeth. “Just boring grown-up stuff,” I say, then accidentally catch Saige’s eye as she watches me intently. Something tells me she knows, or at the very least she has a feeling. 

“What stuff?” Harriet prompts again. “I wanna know, mommy.”

“Some stuff that has to do with Matthew passing away,” I say, skirting dangerous territory. I know there are lines I shouldn’t cross because they’re too young, but the fact of the matter is that they’ll find out sometime. Saige will undoubtedly be involved in the trial, and a more in-depth explanation will follow eventually. Right now, I only need to let them in on a bit of it. “Some complicated things,” I say. 

“Oh,” Harriet says, without pushing the subject any further. She knows what to stay away from when it comes to serious topics. 

We walk inside the office, met with a homey interior and a welcoming lobby. There are all sorts of magazines, and a small corner designated for kids’ toys and books. 

“Hey, I see puzzles!” Saige says, and rushes over with Harriet at her heels. I watch them for a moment, looking over my shoulder, then head towards the front desk. 

“Hi,” I say, setting one palm flat on the counter while letting the other hang. Subtly, Jackson takes it and keeps it while I talk. I don’t mind at all. In fact, the contact is grounding. “I’m here to see Cristina Yang.” 

“Oh, you must be her 5 o’clock,” the woman says. “She’ll be right out.” 

“Great,” I say, and Jackson squeezes my fingers as he lets go. It’s not before Harriet sees, though - she catches everything. 

“Mommy and Daddy,” she says, walking over holding a toy. She scrutinizes us with a squint, obviously unsure of what she just saw. “Why were you holding hands?” 

My face gets hot and I beg the blush to go away. It’s not something she’d notice, but the feeling of being put on the spot by my own daughter isn’t one I appreciate. 

“Because friends hold hands,” Jackson says, saving me with a shrug. “You were holding hands with your friend when I picked you up from school today.” 

“Oh, yeah!” she says cheerfully, a new smile on her face. “That was Kera. She’s my bestest friend.”

“And Mommy’s my best friend,” Jackson says, picking up my hand again to press a loud, theatrical kiss to my knuckles. 

“I already know that,” Harriet says, rolling her eyes playfully as she goes back to play with her sister. 

I throw a look at Jackson after she’s gone and he returns it - but he doesn’t let go of my hand. I don’t want him to. 

When Cristina comes out of her office to call us in, I look at Harriet and Saige with concern. 

“Don’t worry,” she says. “We have no more clients today. They’ll be fine out here with Leah.” 

“It’s not a problem,” the receptionist says, and I give her a grateful smile. 

We head into the office and once the door closes, the three of us are enveloped in silence. Cristina sits behind the desk which puts Jackson and I in front of it, and I cross my legs a bit nervously after we shake hands. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “It’s a relief to be here. To be getting things started.” 

“I’m looking forward to it,” she says, then nods towards Jackson. “So, that makes you… the boyfriend?” 

He raises his eyebrows. “What? Me? Oh, no. No, no, just the best friend. Been friends for years. Well, I’m also the baby daddy. To the older one. Not the little one.” 

Cristina eyes him with interest. “I see,” she says. “So, what you’re saying is that the situation is complicated.” 

“Very,” I answer, with an uncomfortable laugh. “I hope it’s okay that he’s here. He’s my pillar of support; I don’t really have anyone else.” 

“As long as it’s fine with you, it’s fine with me,” she says, then tips her head towards me. “I work for you.” 

“Oh,” I say, recrossing my legs. “Okay.” 

We discuss the ins and outs of the impending trial and what all we’ll need to do to prepare. I ask questions regarding telling Saige about the process, and Cristina gives me clear and concise answers. Tell her what she can understand, and tell her what to expect. Don’t scare her, and don’t talk about potential outcomes. Just talk about what’s happening in the present, what the next steps are, and how to handle them. Cristina will do all of the work on paper, put together our case, and all I need to do is show up and continue to be the best parent for Saige that I can be. She says that the odds are in my favor - I’ve legally adopted her, there’s no holes in that. She says the Taylors’ case is practically transparent.

I leave the office feeling much lighter than I did going in, and kiss both the girls’ heads when we come out. At the moment, I’m filled with gratitude that they’re in front of me, together. Cristina told me not to worry about what might happen, because she won’t let them take Saige, no matter what. And while that thought is comforting, nothing can fully soothe me until the case is closed for good and the Taylors are out of our lives. 

“Can we go home now?” Saige asks, standing up to take my hand. 

“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go home.”

…

Jackson puts the kids to bed, and when he comes downstairs I’m sitting in his armchair with my chin resting on my fist, staring into space. I don’t acknowledge him because I can’t tear my eyes away from the spot on the wall where they’ve been resting.

“Hey, dolly,” he finally says, coming into the room with a glass of wine in one hand and a beer bottle in the other.

“Oh,” I say, breaking from the trance to look up. 

“This is for you,” he says, handing me the wineglass. “And you’re in my chair.” 

I snort and look around the room. “There are plenty more,” I say.

“Yeah, but that one’s mine,” he says, with a grin. “Ask Hattie. I’m very territorial.” When I roll my eyes, he says, “Come on, you can sit with me. Just get up for a sec.” 

I comply and get to my feet, standing there as he gets comfortable. After he’s settled, he pats his thighs and I understand what he’s asking - and I don’t hesitate. Holding my glass carefully in one hand, I lower myself onto his lap and get comfortable with my legs draped over his, leaned back against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat through my body, and I relish the closeness. 

“What’s bothering you?” he asks, taking a sip of beer. 

I chuckle to myself. I shouldn’t be surprised that he can tell, but somehow I still am. He’s always been able to read me like a book. 

“Everything,” I say, noticing he doesn’t know where to put his hands. To help him out, I grab one wrist and wind his arm around the front of my belly to act as a seatbelt. It feels good there, and he seems comfortable. “But namely, the phone call I got from Matthew’s mother today.” 

“Wait,” he says. “Hold up. Say again?” 

“She called,” I say. “And in her own way, cursed me out.” 

“What the hell?” he says. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Or tell Yang?” 

“I will tell her,” I say. “Today just wasn’t the right time.” I shake my head. “It was still fresh. And I didn’t tell you right away because… I don’t know. She made me feel guilty for spending time with you, so I felt like I would be doing something wrong by running to you yet again.” 

I sigh, and he tightens his arm around my waist. I rest a hand over his wrist and run my fingers over the cool divots of his watch, an action so habitual I almost don’t realize I’m doing it. 

“Fuck her,” he says. “Seriously. What a bitch. What did she say?” 

“Well, for starters, she called me a ‘redheaded whore.’” I say. “I can honestly say I’ve never gotten that before.” 

“You’re kidding,” he says. “You’ve gotta be kidding.” 

“Nope,” I say. “And she called you and I ‘bedded up.’ She was saying horrible things about how I haven’t given Saige a good life… and I hate myself for letting her get to me. Because she did. After she hung up, I couldn’t stop asking myself the question… do I deserve Saige at all?” I hang my head and shake it. “I know that’s crazy. I know I deserve her. But when Marianne said all those things… she just got inside my head. She made me feel bad about being with you and not at the other house. She made me feel gross about everything. Like I’m not doing a single thing right.”

“No,” he says, firmly. “That’s exactly what she wanted. She’s just an old, insecure witch who’s determined to get what she wants, and you can’t let her. You’ve gotta be stronger than her, doll. And I know you are. You just gotta keep it up. First sign of weakness, and she’s going in for the kill.” He takes another sip of beer, and I copy the motion with my wine. “And fuck her for making you feel guilty for leaning on me - your best friend - during a shitstorm that they created.” 

In a fluid motion, I set my wineglass down on the table and turn around in his lap. It’s easy to do, we’re still so physically comfortable with one another, that by the time I’m facing forward and our faces are inches away from each other, it barely comes as a surprise. 

I meet his eyes and he matches my gaze with his equally as intense one. The look is loaded, and I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking. Because I’m thinking it, too.

“Jackson,” I say, placing my hands on either side of his neck. I stroke his jawline with my thumbs and watch his eyes melt. “What if what I’m feeling is more than that?”

I’m not scared that he doesn’t reciprocate the feeling, because I’m fully aware that he does. What I’m afraid of are the ramifications of these raw emotions - what happens after they’re out in the open? What will change because of how irrational our hearts have always been?

But for the moment, we throw caution to the wind - both of us. He sets his beer down, takes my waist between his strong hands, and yanks me firmly closer. I lose my breath for a moment as we’re in such close proximity, and I’m already imagining the way his lips will taste. 

I’m not wrong, either. We kiss like we’ve been doing it for years; we kiss like best friends, we kiss like lovers. I hold his face with all I’ve got and try to inhale him, and he knows just the way to handle my body. 

We kiss like we never stopped. 


	6. Chapter 6

**JACKSON**

April still feels exactly the same. 

She tastes the same, smells the same, everything about her is just as it was. It’s like she’s been locked in a time capsule all these years we’ve spent apart, and I’m finally getting the chance to break her out. I come to realize, as she breathes life back into me, that I’ve been dying for her. 

“Oh, god,” I can’t help but moan, hands mapping the expanse of her lower back. I’d almost forgotten how small she is, how petite, but strong. Her thighs clenching my own remind me of that strength, and it forces all the blood to my groin. 

“I know, baby,” she breathes, holding my face in her delicate hands. She’s wearing pajamas, and the fabric of the shorts is thin and loose. I can feel the heat from her body straight through them. 

I kiss her hungrily; I can’t get enough. We’ve been starved of each other without consciously realizing it, and now she’s right in front of me, right where I need her. I don’t plan on letting her go.

“Mm,” she whimpers huskily, wrapping her arms around my neck. I sit up straight to pull her closer, and her body complies as easily as it always did. Now, her center is flush with the bulge between my legs, and I let my eyes close with the feeling as she starts to rub against me. 

“Fuck,” I grunt, sliding my hands lower to grip her ass. I don’t waste time keeping them over the clothes, either. Instead, I slide them inside her shorts from the bottom and grip her ass tight, fingers digging in. It makes her moan; I knew it would. She loves being grabbed rough like that. 

She likes a lot of things rough.

She breathes into my mouth with her lips parted and reaches between us to purposefully grab my dick. Not gently, either. I clench my jaw and squeeze her ass tighter, and her eyebrows raise with a bit of surprise. We always used to test each other’s limits like this, and I can tell by the glint in her eyes that she still likes it.

April tucks her face into my neck and gets her hands underneath my shirt, and I jump from how cold her fingers are. I lean back against the chair and she scoots even closer, licking my throat until it feels like I might come in my pants at any second. 

Her hands sneak higher, thumbs rubbing circles over my nipples until they strain to peaks. I let out a long, loud breath, and she makes a satisfied little sound. “You still like that?” she teases, pinching them.

“Uh-huh,” I say, massaging her ass and forcing her forward to find a rhythm. She rolls her hips against mine, lifting her head to meet my lips in a wet, passionate kiss. She doesn’t take her hands off my nipples, and I hope she doesn’t anytime soon. 

“Am I still the only one who knows that about you?” she asks, voice low and raspy. 

“Yes, baby,” I say, throwing my head back. I haven’t been this turned on in a long time; I used to love it when she got dominant, though she wasn’t always confident enough to try. I can’t help but wonder how much Matthew had to repress to get this side of her to come out so easily with me.

“You want your shirt off?” she asks, eyes lighting up. I nod. “Ask me, then,” she says. 

“Please,” I say, biting my lower lip. She giggles darkly and tears it over my head, leaving my chest bare. She bends in half and puts her mouth on my nipples, sucking hard before biting down shockingly hard on the left one. 

“Shit,” I say, caught off guard.

To get back at her, I grab her around the waist and nearly toss her to the floor, but she lands with barely any sound. She catches her breath, rests her weight on her elbows, and watches me with hooded eyes. She’s trying to guess my next move. 

“And what about you?” I ask, pulling on her legs so she lies flat, then biting my way up her body. “Do you still like that pretty ass smacked?”

Her pupils dilate as she throws her arms over her head, leaving her body open and vulnerable. “Yes,” she murmurs. “But you can’t.” 

“Why’s that?” I ask, latching my fingers around the waistband of her shorts. 

“I want you to hit it hard,” she says, and I nearly lose it. “And you can’t, not without waking up the kids.” 

“Fuck,” I say, then finally get her shorts off. She’s wearing a pair of blue bikini underwear, and there’s a damp patch on the crotch that’s easily visible. I can’t wait to taste it, and I don’t linger. I take a deep breath and separate her thighs, opening my mouth over the cotton to lick her with long, even strokes. 

“Oh,” she whines, both hands on my head. “Shit.” 

I chuckle and rub my nose against her. I smile to myself as she works to shimmy out of her underwear, and soon I’m face-to-face with what I haven’t seen in so long. I stopped allowing myself to miss sex with her after a while, but now I’m not sure how I lived without it. 

“Did he do you like I do?” I ask, rubbing her outer lips with my entire hand. 

“No,” she breathes, shaking her head with closed eyes. “Never.” 

“How do I do it, beautiful,” I murmur, mouth incredibly close to her heat. 

A ghost of a smile flickers across her lips. “Like you’re eating me alive,” she says, arching her back with arousal. I know the feeling; she’d crawl out of her skin to get an orgasm. 

“That’s right,” I say, and dive in. 

I keep her thighs apart with two flat hands and don’t go easy on her. I bend her knees up and out, spread her open, and blow a stream of cool air onto the most intimate part of her. She quivers with excitement, body melting under my touch, and I lick her - one long, confident swipe of the tongue. She tastes like she always did. 

I pull back and watch her squirm, chest flushed pink as she keeps her eyes on me. She lifts her hips and whimpers with her lips pressed together, egging me on with the expression on her face. 

I lower myself again and press a few kisses to her inner thighs. “You make the cutest sounds when you want me,” I say. 

She rolls her eyes at either herself or me, maybe both. “You’re teasing me,” she says. “And I’m really, really turned on.”

“I know,” I say, then swiftly push two fingers inside of her. Her jaw drops and her eyes roll back, lashes fluttering so I can only see the whites at the bottom. “Look at me,” I say, and she opens them again as I pull my fingers out. Along with them, comes a thin strand of her arousal, wavering between the tips of my fingers and the wetness between her legs. “I know.” 

“Shit,” she hisses, running her hands up her face to push her hair off her forehead.

While keeping that eye contact, I slip those fingers in my mouth and suck her off of them, and she groans loudly, still fidgeting. 

“I wanna hear you moan my name,” I say, running my hands over her hip bones. 

“Make me, then,” she breathes, letting her thighs go slack and fall apart further.

I twitch in my pants, somehow harder than before, though I’m not sure how that’s possible. I close my eyes and touch her with my tongue, separating her lips to find my way inside her slick heat, and she makes a satisfied sound once I do. 

I use my tongue to imitate the thrusting motion, dropping sporadic kisses in and outside of her as I go. She starts breathing heavier, deeper, her ribs showing through her torso, and reaches to take a firm handful of my hair. I tip her ass up a bit and drag my tongue lower, to the spot I guarantee Matthew never went near. His loss.

She gasps and yanks on my hair hard, and I know I’m doing something right.

“Do you like it when I touch you there?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She nods fervently, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth so hard it turns white. She widens her legs more, exposing herself completely, and I kiss her outer lips as if they’re capable of kissing me back. 

“Use your fingers and tongue,” she says. It’s not a question. It’s a demand. 

“Yes, dear,” I say, chuckling. I tease her with the pad of my thumb for a moment before sliding three inside her, and that partnered with how I pull her clit into my mouth and suck on it in the same rhythm does everything for her. 

She makes a guttural sound and pinches her eyes shut. “Oh, Jackson,” she moans, which is exactly what I wanted. 

“Yeah, baby?” I say, thrusting my fingers fast and hard while keeping my mouth where it is. “Yeah?” 

She moans - long, loud and drawn-out. It ends in a piercing, short scream and I grin against her, sliding my hands under her ass to pull her closer, at an angle with her knees thrown over my shoulders. 

“Shit,” she says, snorting with laughter at the new position. She makes a funny choking sound and giggles, which makes me laugh too. “Hold on.” She adjusts herself, puts her neck at less of an awkward angle, and lies with her shoulders flat on the carpet. I still have her lower half, though, and I yank it towards my face once she’s comfortable. 

“Better?” I ask, keeping a good grip on her thighs. 

“Yeah,” she says, lacing her fingers together behind her head. “Keep going.” 

She closes her eyes and lets herself get lost in what I’m doing, and I sporadically open my eyes to watch her face. She’s on another level, wrapped around my finger while simultaneously having me wrapped around hers. 

I go slow and thorough for a while, appreciating everything she is. I taste every inch of skin between her legs and pepper her with kisses that make her twitch, while stroking the sensitive, warm inside of her body. It’s been so long since I’ve been with her and truly appreciated a woman’s form… I almost forgot how amazing it is. Hers, specifically. 

“You’re beautiful,” I say, lips grazing her pubic bone as I talk, our eyes locked, my eyebrows raised. 

“I know,” she says, stretching her arms above her head. She closes her eyes, smiles blissfully, and jolts me closer with a kick of her heels. “Will you please make this beautiful woman come?”

I chuckle. “I love it when you get cocky,” I say.

“Why do you think I do it?” she says, smirking. Then, she bats her eyelashes innocently and says, “Please?” 

“You don’t need to say ‘please’ baby,” I tell her, nuzzling the space between her legs that’s emanating heat. “You know I will.” 

And I do. I open my mouth wide and cover her, licking her until she’s quivering and sweating all over, her body slippery in my grip. I suck on her clit and stroke her g-spot with two fingers until her hips work against my face, gyrating with the need for an end result. I decide not to make her wait any longer. 

Without coming up for air, I remove the fingers that were inside her and wind that hand back. With her clit still in my mouth, I land it hard on her ass from the side, and it only takes one smack for her to come with a series of moans that sound similar to sobs. For a moment, I almost wonder if she’s crying. But when I look at her face, sweaty and red as she comes down, I realize they’re sounds of pleasure. 

“Holy shit,” she says, as I gently put her body back on the floor. She lies there, spent, open, and pulsing. She covers her face with her hands for a moment, but only to wipe the perspiration away, then she looks back at me. “You’re… the king. Of sex.” 

We both burst out laughing. I collapse forward so my head lands on her stomach, and she holds me close in all her naked glory. She curls towards me and I wrap my arms around her middle, laughing against her belly as it vibrates with giggles. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t know where that came from!” she squeals. 

With a wild smile plastered on my face, I kiss my way up her soft, stick body until I make it to her lips. Her neck goes slack as she drapes her arms around my shoulders, but her lips are still pulled up in a grin as we kiss each other - heady and passionate, with a whole lot of tongue. 

I lower my hips to rest between hers and she wraps her strong legs around me, forcing me as close as possible. She rolls her pelvis up to rub against my throbbing erection, and I know we both have the same idea in mind. I want her - I want to be inside her so badly.

She opens her mouth and breathes hotly into mine, eyes half-lidded and drunk. She runs her hands through my hair, beginning at the back of my head, and squeezes me even tighter with those vine-like legs.

“I wanna fuck you,” she sighs, pressing her body against mine in all the right places.

“Mmm…” I moan, dipping my face to kiss her neck. I take little sections of skin and bite down in hopes to leave marks. “I think it’s supposed to work the other way.”

“How about both,” she says, dragging her fingernails down the back of my neck. It sends chills up my spine, and my hips involuntarily thrust against hers. 

“I can work with that.” 

She inhales deeply as I gently trace the curve of her shoulder with my tongue, clutching me even more desperately. She whines with the feeling, a sound that begs for more, and digs her nails into my back. 

“We can’t stay down here,” she says, logic shining a light through the pheromones in her brain. “Imagine, if the kids…”

“Right,” I say, then back up off of her. In one swift movement, I lift her off the ground and into my arms, which makes her shriek with surprise. “Quiet,” I say, widening my eyes for effect. “You’ll wake them up.” 

Luckily, we make it upstairs and to the bedroom without any further outbursts, and I shut the door once we make it inside. The room is lit enough through the windows, so we keep the lights off, too. 

April looks perfect, lying on the bed as she waits for me to undress. “Don’t forget a condom,” she says, extending her arms out to either side. She laughs ironically under her breath, and I don’t need a translation. Yes, condoms. We don’t need any more stress on our plate right now. I hurry to the bathroom and grab the box from the medicine cabinet, then set it where it’ll be easily reachable once it comes time. 

“You don’t have them handy, right there in the drawer anymore?” she asks, bending her knees and knocking them together while looking at me. “That’s unlike you.” 

I chuckle and crawl onto the bed, now completely naked. I don’t miss the way her eyes center on my erection; she doesn’t try and hide it, either. 

She reaches for me and drags her fingers over my biceps. My triceps, too, on the backs of my arms, which she knows turns me on. It’s a strangely intimate place, and it drives me crazy. It always has. 

“Well,” I say, lifting my knees to place one between hers. “You could say I haven’t been all that active lately.” 

She raises her eyebrows, then pulls me down by the neck to kiss me. “Have you been abstinent, Mr. Avery?” 

I can’t help but laugh. “Getting some real big  _ 50 Shades _ vibes from that.”

She purrs, still holding my neck. “I don’t know if the fact that you know about that should turn me on or worry me.”

“Hey,” I say, interrupting myself to kiss her. “It was on the commercials. I didn’t see or read anything more than that.” 

“Sure…” she says, eyes glinting. “If I look too hard, am I gonna find a red room in this house?” 

“A what?” 

“Never mind,” she says. “Just kiss me.” 

“Mm,” I grunt, pushing myself up and getting a good grip on either side of her ribcage. “I wanna kiss a different part of you.” She gives me a quizzical look. “Flip over,” I say, and she complies without asking. 

She gets situated on her stomach, elbows supporting her upper half. She jerks her head so her hair falls over one shoulder, then looks over the opposite one. “What are you doing to me?” she asks flirtatiously.

I flash her a devilish smile as I make my way down her body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the middle of her spine, the small of her back, and the round of her left ass cheek.

“Jackson…” she says, and I’m not sure if the tone is more wondering or warning. She blinks slowly as I massage her ass and breathes a heavy exhale, one that makes her lips puff out. 

“Do you want me to?” I ask. 

It’s been a long time. I don’t know if she’s open to it anymore, or if she’s even interested. I figure it’s a good idea to ask, even though she’s the one person I know better than anyone else. I would never want to overstep, especially when things have gone so well tonight. 

She presses her lips together after licking them, and adjusts her hips. Her back arches, which puts her ass closer to my face, and I let a smile sneak onto my lips.

“No one has… since…” she says, widening her eyes to substitute the words. I don’t need to be told that Matthew never ate her ass; that goes without saying. 

“Tell me you want it, and I’ll give it to you,” I say, thumbing the crease where her ass meets her upper thighs. She’s always had the best butt - cute, tight and perky. 

“I want it,” she says, and I come through on my promise. 

I spread her apart and give her what she’s been deprived of for the past handful of years, and she melts to a puddle of moans, sighs, and whimpers from what I can do. By the time I’m finished with her, she hasn’t come yet but she wants an orgasm bad - and I want her to have one with me inside her.

“Hold on,” I say, swiftly grabbing for the condom box and ripping one open with my teeth. She’s still on her stomach, breathing heavy, and I stare at her throbbing body while I roll the latex onto myself, so fucking thankful for what’s about to happen.

She rises to her hands and knees, anticipating my next move. But as much as I love seeing her like that, bent over for me, I want to see her face. 

“Dolly,” I say, skimming a hand up the middle of her back. “Can I look at you?” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a bit shy. I have no clue why. “While we’re…” 

“Oh,” she says, then flips onto her back. “You don’t have to ask, baby.” 

A wide, involuntary smile breaks onto my face, and she mirrors it. I have to kiss her, there’s no other choice. I hold her face in one hand and open my mouth on hers, and she undulates her hips to grind against mine, and I know there can’t be any more waiting. 

“Go, honey,” she says, like she’s read my mind. “I need you.” 

The reunion between our bodies is beyond words. Nothing could encompass the feeling that rushes through my body when I push inside hers, and I’ve never made eye contact so meaningful in my life. She keeps her hands on my chest for a moment, soaking in the initial euphoria, before tossing her head to one side with a satisfied groan. 

She tells me,  _ move _ , so I do. Of course I do. 

After being apart for so long, I expected some sort of trial period, where we’d mess up, forget things about each other, and fumble. But right now, as our bodies move as one all over again, there isn’t any of that. It’s like we never stopped, and this is just another night in our marriage. 

Every time I thrust, a puff of breath escapes her and hits my collarbone. She stretches her arms as far as they’ll go and gets a good hold on my ass, urging me forward faster and expanding her fingers to grab as much of me as she can. I smile to myself, thinking of her tiny form under my large one. That was something I always loved about us - the dichotomy. Tall, short. Big, small. Black, white. But at the end of the day, it never mattered. We fit together, and all the details fell away because of it.

When April comes, all her muscles contract before they release. It’s always been like that. She clamps my body with her legs, linking her ankles together, and winds her arms tight around my neck. She bites down on my shoulder and whimpers, voice shaking, as her body trembles under mine. I don’t stop thrusting as her walls flutter and pulse, that only pushes me closer to my orgasm. And, because of all the warm thoughts rushing through my head, I can’t help the words that come out of my mouth. 

“God,” I groan, face in her neck. “I love you, doll.” 

She doesn’t hesitate. There’s not a beat of pause, not even a breath before she responds with, “Baby, I love you, too.” 

…

In the morning, I don’t wake up in the usual way. For starters, I’m usually clothed. The sun isn’t normally up yet, and the alarm is almost always blasting in my ear. But today, I’m stark naked with April in my arms, the sun is shining, and I wake to whispers and shrieks instead of the sound of my phone.

I blink my eyes open slowly as I come to the surface of consciousness. Everything is still foggy, and I’m confused beyond belief. For a moment, I almost forget what happened last night before it comes rushing back with a hurried, visceral intensity. 

April and I are both on our sides, facing each other. Her forehead rests against my sternum, one arm bent so her fingertips rest gently over my heart. The other arm is thrown over my bare waist, and she’s using one of my arms as a pillow as the other is planted firmly over her naked ass. The sheet isn’t covering it, either, much to Saige and Harriet’s amusement. 

“Mommy’s booty!” Harriet says, snickering from the doorway. 

Hearing that, I snap to my senses. I push myself up on an elbow to tell the girls to get out, or turn around at least, but the shuffle wakes April and startles her. She sits up, bare-chested, and squints to find the source of the hubbub. 

“Wh… what? What’s going on?” 

“Mommy and Daddy are nudey!” Harriet says, pointing and giggling. 

“Nakey!” Saige echoes, one hand over her mouth. “Jackson was touching Mommy’s booty butt!” 

“Shit,” April says, gathering the sheet. She doesn’t seem to know what to say to them, or how to get out of this situation. Her face is beet red. 

We’d meant to get up and get dressed last night. We’d talked about it. We said we would. But it was late, and we tired each other out. We must have passed out before we could move anywhere. And now, we’re paying the price. 

“Girls, some privacy please,” I say, trying to smooth this over as if I’m not equally embarrassed. Luckily, the sheet is covering anything of mine that would scar them.

“You and Mommy are already having privacy!” Harriet says. “With each other!”

“Harriet Samantha,” I say sternly, looking at her with hard eyes. “Take your sister and go get dressed, please. We’re running late.” 

Her face falls instantly. She hates when I use that tone of voice; it always makes her cry. I don’t usually have to get stern, and I don’t like doing it, but I also know that me and April need a minute without them staring at us. 

She turns around without saying a word, giving me a nasty look before pulling Saige away like I’d told her to. When I look to April, she looks ashen now instead of flushed. 

“They shouldn’t have seen that,” she says, getting up. I can’t help but watch her naked form as she stands, stretching her arms high above her head before finding a robe of mine to put on, tying it tightly after. “Jackson…”

“I know,” I say, getting up too. I put on a pair of boxers and head towards the bathroom for a shower. “I know.” 

“What are we supposed to tell them?” 

“I don’t know. But I’m not having the sex talk with my five-year-old.” 

“Oh, stop,” she says, rolling her eyes lightly. “They’re not thinking about that. It’s not even on their radar, that’s not what I’m worried about. But you and I, in bed together…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t get a good feeling.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” I say. 

“Will we, though?” she asks, looking over with a worried look in her eyes that I’ve seen so many times. “Should we have done that?” 

I stop in my tracks and eye her seriously. “Do you regret it?” 

She crosses her arms. “Should I?” 

I shake my head minutely. “I don’t know, but do you?”  

She sighs and looks at the floor. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe, that’s the problem.” She pushes her hair out of her face and tries to seem normal when she lifts her head again. “We’ll just have to figure it out later, right? Because the girls are already late for school, and… and…” Her gaze gets caught on my chest, and I can tell her thoughts begin to roam. “We’ll just have to talk about it later.” 

“Yes,” I say. “Later, we will.” 

“Right.” 

“I’m gonna get in the shower now,” I say.

“Okay,” she says. 

“Are you… are you alright?” I ask. 

She flashes the fakest smile I’ve ever seen. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna go… go get the girls dressed, and you shower. I’ll get in after you.” 

“Sounds good,” I say, then retreat to the bathroom. I shower quickly without letting my mind wander, because I don’t think anything good will come of that this morning. She’s acting squirrelly, which is very on-brand for April, but I hadn’t gotten that vibe from her last night. I would’ve been able to see it coming a mile away had she given any hints, but she didn’t. This came out of nowhere, and I feel blindsided.

When I get out of the shower and head towards Harriet’s room to tell April it’s free, I hear little voices coming from inside. “I saw your booty,” Saige says. 

“Yes,” April responds. “And Mommy’s sorry that you did. I didn’t mean for you to.” 

“I saw Daddy’s hand on it. Like this!” Harriet says, giggling after making a smacking sound.

“Harriet,” April scolds, her tone quick and sharp. “Stop it. You know how I feel about potty talk.” 

“But I did see that,” Harriet continues. “It’s not potty talk if I really did see it. And his hand was really for real on your booty when you were sleeping.” 

“Booty, booty, booty!” Saige sings, and I hear more slapping sounds. Shit. This is not good. 

“Hey, guys!” I say, bursting into the room to hopefully break up the conversation. “Who’s wearin’ what today?” 

“Purple overalls!” Harriet cheers, arms in the air. 

She’s currently only in a pair of purple underwear, hair half-braided. April looks weary sitting on her knees, hands open in her lap - obviously the spot Harriet had just vacated. Saige gets up from where she’d been leaning against April and does a twirl, already in a ballet-pink dress. 

“Look at my dress, Jackson!” she says, fanning out the skirt.

“Very pretty,” I say. “I love it.”

“Look at this!” Harriet says, then trots over to her sister and lifts her skirt. “Look. Booty! Booty!” She smacks Saige playfully on the behind, which makes her sister squeal with laughter as she chases her around the room. 

“No! I got you!” Saige says, and hits Harriet. “Booty butt! Booty butt!”

“Girls!” April barks, and her voice quiets the room. Her cheeks are rose-red, along with the tips of her ears and her chest. 

“Mommy did just tell you to stop with the potty language,” I say, trying to back April up. 

Their demeanors grow sullen and withdrawn, and April lets out a loud breath. “Harriet, come here, please. I wasn’t done with you.”

“You were hurting me,” Harriet murmurs, but walks obediently over anyway. 

Over our daughter’s head, April casts me a look and her eyes tell me everything I need to know. We might have gotten ourselves in too deep.

…

I take the girls to school, like always. April stays home with plans of meeting with the lawyer later, and I have somewhat of a light day at the hospital. 

“Mommy was mad, mad, mad,” Saige says, after we’ve been driving for a bit. 

“She hurted my head!” Harriet exclaims.

“She didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say, glancing back in the rearview mirror. “You know Mama wouldn’t do that.”

“Still. She did, though.” 

I clear my throat, wondering if I should broach the subject or if I should let it die. If it’s already slipped their minds, there might not be a reason to bring it up again. I furrow my eyebrows and let the moment pass, returning my eyes to the road, when the girls start to talk again. 

“Daddy, did Mommy get mad ‘cause I saw her booty?” Harriet asks. “‘Cause I’ve already seen it before. Like, a billion times. And it’s fine, ‘cause we’re girls. I’ve also seen Saige’s booty a lot. I  _ don’t _ want to see yours, though, daddy. Ever.” 

“Ewww!” Saige giggles. 

I snort and roll my eyes. “She wasn’t mad because of that,” I say. “She just doesn’t want you two being inappropriate and bringing that talk to school. It’s not polite. It’s not nice to talk about other people’s bodies, because it can make them feel bad.” 

That’s the best way I can think to put it. I know April would do better.

“But Mommy doesn’t have to feel bad. She’s pretty.” 

I sigh to myself. “Just… when you see other people naked, it’s a private thing,” I say. “Sometimes, Mommies and Daddies need privacy, like I said this morning. Not everything is meant for kid eyes to see.” 

“Like nudey-ness?” Saige pipes up. 

“Yes, exactly,” I say. 

“Well, I just went in your room ‘cause you didn’t even come to wake us up yet,” Harriet explains. “I wasn’t trying to be in a privacy.” 

“Okay,” I say. “It’s okay. No one’s mad.”

“Mommy’s mad,” Saige says. “Mommy yelled.” 

“Yeah, and Mommy barely ever yells ever,” Harriet adds. 

“I know,” I say. “I just think Mommy is a little stressed right now, that’s all. She’s not mad at you, I promise. She’ll be just fine by the time you come home.” 

As I say that, I pull up to the school and the two of them unbuckle themselves quickly. “We’re here!” Harriet cheers. 

“Alright, have a good day, you guys,” I say, swiveling to watch them get out the back door. “Hey. I love you!” 

They both turn back and wave, identical smiles on their faces. “Love you, too!” they chorus.

I have to admit, it’s easy to forget the little one isn’t mine. 

…

“You and Kepner totally had sex.”

I blink my eyes open wide, looking up at Callie as she sits next to me with her lunch. She has a smug look on her face, like she knows everything there is to know. And apparently, she does. 

“Hello to you, too,” I say, taking a bite of my club sandwich. 

“Don’t try and lie, Avery,” she says. “It’s all over your face. Men are weak. They start to fade when they don’t have sex for a while. And you’ve got a glow today. I could see it from a mile away.”

I look at one hand, turning it this way and that as if my skin should be shining. “You’ve finally lost your marbles, Torres,” I say. 

“I don’t hear you denying it, though,” she says. 

I chuckle a bit, shoulders bouncing as I shake my head. After a minute, I look up and meet her eyes to say, “Okay. Yeah, we did. Last night.”

She swipes her hands together like she’s just finished a job. “What’d I tell you!” she says, satisfied. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. 

“So, how was it?” 

“Jesus.” 

“I know you wanna talk about it,” she says, then looks around. “Who else is gonna ask? Sorry, but I’m all you’ve got. And you’re lucky I’m feeling gossipy today.” 

I roll my eyes and lean back in the chair. “Uh, it was great,” I say, trying to hide how much I really did love it. 

“Yeah, ‘great,’ he says,” she mutters sarcastically. “Don’t gush now, Avery.”

“Okay!” I say, laughing. “It was fucking amazing. Happy?” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “It was like we never stopped. It was like…”

“Like riding a bike,” Callie fills in.

I nod. “Sure. Except that bike rode me. Quite a few times.” 

“Oh, screw you,” she says, with a dramatic eye-roll. 

I laugh, a huge smile on my face, and she can’t help but join. “I thought you’d like that one,” I say, then hear my phone ring. “Oh, hold on. It’s April.”

“She got her old ringtone back, did she?” Callie says, egging me on. 

I flip her off before answering. “Hey, doll.” 

Callie mouths ‘ _ doll _ ?’ and I hold up a flat hand to block her face.

“Jackson,” April says, and there’s an unsettling tone of urgency in her voice. 

“Yeah,” I say. “What’s up? You okay?” 

“No,” she says. “Well, yes. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. But the girls’ school called.” 

“Oh,” I say, frowning. “Why?” 

“They didn’t say over the phone,” she says. “But it’s about Saige. They want me to come in and talk to the principal.” There’s a nervous pause. “I’m worried it has something to do with the hearing. Like, maybe the Taylors tried to physically take her out of school or something.” 

“Oh, shit,” I say, body tensing. 

“So… will you come with me? Please?” she asks, but then backtracks. “I understand if you have a full day. Don’t cancel anything because of me. I’m just… it got me all nervous, and having you there would-” 

“Sure, of course,” I say. “What time?” 

…

Sitting in the car with April after her appointment with the principal, the air is crackling. 

“We can’t…” she says, chewing on a fingernail. “We can’t do this again.” 

The principal wanted to talk to April not because of the hearing, but because of what Saige was overheard talking about in class. She was telling a group of friends that her mommy was naked in bed with her friend. And that Saige’s daddy isn’t around anymore, so now Mommy acts the way she did with him with a new man. 

Needless to say, it wasn’t good.

The three of them - the principal, April, and Saige - all had a serious sit-down talk about what should and shouldn’t be talked about at school. And the principal had a serious, sit-down talk with April about what Saige should and shouldn’t be privy to, as if she didn’t already know. April was effusive with her apologies, claiming it was a big mistake and they girls weren’t meant to see it. I could hear her through the door. I don’t think she should have apologized that much - it happens all the time. Kids walk in on their parents. It’s not the end of the world. We just happen to be in quite a unique situation. 

But I know that Saige’s mental health matters over everything else right now, and the situation between April and me is clearly confusing her. And that’s not fair. 

“I know,” I say, fully admitting it. The look on April’s face tells me she hadn’t expected me to come to the same conclusion so easily.

She turns her head to study me, a portion of her lower lip between her teeth. Her eyes dart between my eyes and my mouth, contemplating the same thing I am, I assume. 

“One more time,” she says, fidgeting in a way that lets me know she’s turned on. 

So, we drive to the parking lot behind the movie theater, where no one else is in the middle of a weekday, and fuck. The windows are tinted in the back, but honestly, I would have ravaged her there even if they weren’t. 

Completely naked, her thighs are spread over mine as our sweaty bodies move together for what I refuse to believe is the final time. It can’t be; it won’t be. We’ll just have to put it on pause. Again. But it’s for a good cause, for the greater good. 

“Imagine if she… said those things around his parents,” April says, then pinches her eyes shut tight. “I shouldn’t talk about them while we’re doing this. Sorry.” 

I hold her tight around the waist, my hands nearly encapsulating the whole thing. “Talk about whatever you want,” I say, leaning forward to kiss her chest. Her breasts bounce and graze my face, so I turn to the side and bite the swells. She gives me a whimper in return.

I lean back casually, cockily, and she scoops her hips more fluidly, at a more rapid rate. She presses two flat palms against my chest and smiles as an afterthought. 

“What?” I say.

She shakes her head a bit. “I’m getting a leather burn on my knees,” she says.

“And you’re happy about that?” I say, laughing as I reach to grab her ass. 

She shrugs. “It’ll give me something to remember this by, at least,” she says. 

“What do you mean?” I ask. 

“I just…” she says, then holds my face. She gives me a long, slow kiss, like she’s trying to tell me something without words. I can almost grasp it, but not quite. “For right now, I think we should move back home.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**APRIL**

The thought had been ruminating in the back of my mind for a while - whether or not it was okay that we were still at Jackson’s house. I had convinced myself it was fine, but the two of us sleeping together tipped it over the edge. 

Saige’s outbursts at school only made it worse, and that more than anything made it clear that this can’t continue. For her sake and the sake of the trial, whatever is happening between Jackson and me has to stop. 

“Move back home?” he says, and I realize we’re having this conversation naked, in the back seat of his car, while he’s inside me. They’re not ideal circumstances, but we’re not well-versed in those. 

“I… yeah,” I say, rotating my hips. Though the conversation has turned serious, he’s still hard. That doesn’t go unnoticed by either of us.

“Why?” 

“You know why,” I say, massaging his shoulders while I slow my hips and look at his face. “With Saige saying the things she did... it’s confusing for her, for both of them.” I let out a soft sigh. “It’s confusing for me.” 

“Well, me too,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “But I told you last night that I loved you, and you said it back. What’s that mean, then?”

“I don’t know,” I say, and it’s the truth. I don’t know anything for certain right now, not until my life settles down. “And did you wanna stop, or…” I glance to where we’re joined and begin to lift off of him, but he keeps me in place with both hands on my waist. 

“No,” he says, then flips us so my back is against the cool leather of the seat. 

With one leg braced on the floor and the other knee bent against the seatback, he positions his body over mine and rocks his hips in a steady rhythm. He rests one hand next to my head and uses the other to prop up the small of my back, arching it closer to him. 

“You get why, right?” I ask, tilting my head as he pushes deeper. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it right this minute,” he says, jaw clenched. “Can we just…?” 

“Yeah.” 

I wrap my arms around his neck and submit my body to him, kissing his face while he makes a home inside me and lets me know what will always be his. I can tell, just by the way he moves, that he’s staking his claim. He’s telling me without words that he wants to be my only one, and I want the same. I really do. I know we’re meant to be together, to share a life, to share our children. I don’t want him with anyone else either, but timing never seems to work in our favor. 

And I have to think of the bigger picture at the moment, which is Saige’s quality of life and her future. I can’t let my feelings for Jackson cloud my judgment and allow my baby to get taken away.

I don’t want to lose Jackson, though, either. I already lost him once, and I can’t let it happen again. It was the worst mistake of my life, letting him go, although it did lead me to Saige. If I let myself start thinking about ‘what-ifs,’ then I’ll end up in a rabbit hole deeper than what I bargained for. It’s easy to say that everything happens for a reason, that’s what God teaches. But it’s hard to know that reason when what could’ve been is staring you in the face. 

“April,” he grunts. “Come back.”

I realize I must have gone dreamy and gotten lost in my own thoughts. He’s always had the ability to recognize when I do that, and it makes me smile - just softly, barely there. 

“I’m here,” I say. 

He meets my eyes for a long moment, then drops his head to plant kisses along my jawline and neck. “I can’t get there,” he says. “I’m… my head won’t shut up.” 

“Mine, either,” I say. 

“But I don’t wanna stop,” he says, breathless as he still thrusts into me. “If we aren’t gonna be able to…” 

“I don’t, either,” I say, digging the pads of my fingers into his back. “But there’s not enough room, and my back is getting burned.” I drum my fingers on his shoulders as his hips have stilled. “Can we go home? Do you have time?” 

He nods and pulls out, still hard as he tucks himself into his boxers and pants. I put on my shirt without bothering with a bra, and button my jeans as I get comfortable in the front seat. 

He turns the radio on as we drive, and I look over and feel guilt settle in the base of my throat. I’m the one making all the decisions, jerking him around, letting him know when I need him and when I don’t. It shouldn’t be like this, I know, but there’s not another option while all this is going on. I’m doing the right thing by moving out and not stringing him along anymore, though it might be the most difficult emotionally for both of us. But for our mental health, it’s the best choice.

I reach to rest a hand on his thigh, rubbing it smoothly while he drives. His eyes flit to me, narrowed a bit, and a smirk plays at the corners of his lips.

“Remember that one time?” he says. 

My cheeks flash red, because I know exactly what he’s talking about. “No,” I say. 

“You do,” he says. “Best road head I’ve ever gotten.” 

I shake my head with my lips pinched together. “So messy,” I say.

“That’s the best part,” he says, with a wink. “Wanna try again?”

“No,” I say, but move my hand inward to cup his erection over his pants. I squeeze generously, working the shaft with a firm hand, and he bites his lower lip. 

“Damn you, April,” he says, eyes jumping between my face and the road. “Fuck.” 

I giggle darkly and unzip his jeans with ease, unbuttoning them after, then slip inside to continue the motion over his boxers. He throbs in my grip, ready for action, and I keep my pace as slow as possible. I want to drag it out, to torture him. I don’t want him to come, that’s not my goal. I convince myself that I’m just keeping him warm until we get home. 

He clenches the steering wheel with all he’s got, twisting it in his hands as I play with the head of his dick and run my thumb over the tip. 

“April,” he warns, as I trace it with one finger and find the vein I love. “You have to stop.” 

“Why?” I ask, leaning over to press a slow kiss to his cheek. “Don’t you like it?” 

“Yes,” he says. “But I like it too much.” 

“Oh,” I say, then yank the waistband of his boxers down and tug him out - going against what he’d just said, he lifts his hips to help me with positioning. “Mmm, just look at you.” 

He closes his eyes for a moment while we’re at a red light, and I pump him casually, using the other hand to massage his balls. He presses on the gas a little too hard and we jolt forward, which makes me chuckle, and I hold him a bit tighter and tease the head, then double over and take it in my mouth like I just said I wouldn’t do. 

“Jesus Christ,” he says, one hand firm on the back of my skull. His voice is strained and forced, like he’s about to climax any second, and that’s not far from the truth. As I suck on the head and tease the shaft with two fingers, his hips jolt up and he spills into my mouth.

I swallow some of it, but due to the angle we’re at, a lot slips out of my mouth to coat my chin and lips. What didn’t make it there still shines on the surface of his dick, as the remnants leak out. 

While rubbing his thigh, I lick him clean and he makes all sorts of sounds above me. We’ve stopped again, so I take his chin with one hand kiss him hard, feeling proud of myself. 

“You just said you weren’t gonna do it,” he says, dick still out. 

“I’m full of surprises, I guess,” I say, then shrug. “You deserved it.” 

“Deserved it,” he repeats. “What was it, a prize?” 

“No,” I say. “But you’ve been so good to me lately. And I haven’t done anything for you.” 

“April,” he says, glancing at me for a quick second before facing forward again. “This isn’t a tit for tat situation. You don’t have to thank me with road head for taking in my best friend. Amazing road head, yes. But… that’s not how it works.”

“I know,” I say. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think you do. I’m not doing this for any… I don’t have any ulterior motives. I just love you. That’s it.” 

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, but the words hit like a ton of bricks. It puts me in such a difficult situation because I feel the same way, but we can’t exist in a vacuum. 

“I just love you, too,” I say.

“Enough to give me road head, which you hate,” he says, with a laugh. 

“We can talk about all this, you know,” I say. “I feel like I’m the one making all the decisions. We should have a two-way conversation.”

“Sure,” he says, as we pull up in the driveway of the house I’ve become so familiar with. “But… can it wait ‘til after?” 

Once we get in the house, our clothes stay by the front door and we end up in his bedroom. He bends me over and buries himself in me - condom included - without much waiting or warning. I let myself fall forward onto my elbows as he takes me, slamming his hips against mine in a rough manner, but not one without rhythm. I grip the comforter tight in both fists and let my eyes roll back, shivering as the beginning of my orgasm ripples through me and finds its way to every nerve ending. 

My muscles contract first, tightening around him as if even subconsciously I don’t want to let him go. Then, they turn to jelly and my knees go so weak he has to hold me up until he comes, too. 

“That was what I wanted,” he mutters, kissing his way down my back and nipping small sections of skin. “Not a rushed fuck in the car.” 

“Mmm…” I hum, rolling over bare and open. “Come here.” 

He gets on the bed, too, naked as I am. He pulls me close and pets my hair out of my face, then kisses the spot between my eyebrows. 

“I don’t want you to go,” he says, lips barely moving. 

“I know,” I say, running my nails gently over his facial hair. “But right now, I don’t think there’s a way I could stay. You know?”

He nods. He understands. But sometimes, it’s not about understanding. It’s about knowing one thing for certain and feeling another, and not being able to decide which to listen to - your head or your heart. 

“I know,” he says.

…

When I pick up Harriet and Saige from school, both of them have roving eyes, looking around like something might be missing. And to them, something - or rather, someone - is. 

“Where’s Daddy?” Harriet asks, falling into step on my right side and taking my hand. “Are we meeting him at home?” 

“Him working late?” Saige pipes up from my left, small fingers intertwined with mine on that side. 

“No, actually,” I say, steeling myself for the delivery of the news. “We’re actually going home to Mommy’s house. We’re not gonna stay with Daddy anymore.” 

Harriet stops dead in her tracks, feet planted defiantly. That causes Saige to mirror her actions, though she might not be completely sure why. 

“No!” Harriet exclaims. “I wanna go home to Daddy’s.” 

“You will,” I say. “On Friday, like usual.” 

“No!” she shouts again. “Like we did. All of us, together. Like you were Mommy and Daddy.”

I lick my lips and bring up the words I knew I’d have to use. I prepared for opposition like this, especially from her. But being a little sister, Saige copies mostly everything Harriet does. I knew I’d get it from her, too, but only secondhand.

“It’s not gonna be like that anymore,” I say. “At least, not for right now. I have a lot of other stuff going on, and we need to get back to our house and get things sorted out there. We haven’t been there for a really long time.” 

“I don’t wanna go there!” Saige interjects. 

“You don’t have a choice,” I say, turning stern. “Neither of you do. Now, can you please get in the car?” 

“I’m only going to Daddy’s house. Not yours,” Harriet says, arms crossed. “I want all of us to be there. I don’t wanna be splitted up! It’s not fair. None of my friends have splitted up parents, and it’s your fault! You’re making us go back home.” 

“Hattie,” I say, a big lump appearing in my throat. “I’m very, very sorry that Daddy and I confused you-” 

“You were in the same bed like a mommy and a daddy!” she insists. “I saw it! We saw your booty!”

“This morning,” Saige adds. “I gotted in trouble.” 

“Yes, and we have to talk about that,” I say, looking at her pointedly before shifting the attention back to her sister. “Harriet, baby. I’m sorry we confused you. Believe it or not, grown-ups make mistakes, too. All the time.”

“What was the mistake you did?” she asks, clearly not grasping what I’m trying to say. I know I’m not saying it right. I’m not doing anything right lately, with anyone. 

I take a deep breath. “Your daddy helped us when we really needed it. Now, we’re doing okay and we’re good to be on our own now. Back to our house, where we can figure stuff out. And when Dad and I are ready… I don’t know. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

Harriet puffs out her lips, eyebrows set low. In this moment, she is Jackson’s twin. “I’m not okay,” she says, defiantly. “I want Daddy.” 

I’m stubborn, and Jackson is, too. Somehow, the child we created was born even more headstrong and unyielding than both of us put together, and that’s saying something. 

“I’m sorry, sister, but all you got is me tonight,” I say, knowing I can outwit her. She’s five. I’m not the type of parent to give in to silly near-tantrums like this. “So, you can both either walk with me to the car, or I’ll carry you. And if I have to carry you, you won’t like how tonight looks when we get home. Time-outs for everyone, and iPads taken for a week.” 

Harriet’s cheeks flush and her eyes shine with tears. Saige watches her, waiting for her sister’s next move to see how she should move forward. 

“You’re mean!” Harriet growls, fists clenched by her side. 

Saige looks between the two of us, unsure of how to proceed. Eventually, she breaks and scurries towards me, arms outstretched so I’ll carry her. 

“Harriet, are you coming?” I ask. 

She doesn’t answer, but her heavy footsteps tell me all I need to know. I lift Saige off the ground like she’d asked, and she immediately wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, pulling herself close like a monkey. 

“No fair!” Harriet whines once we get to the car. “You carried her. And you said whoever gets carried gets no iPad. So, Saigey gets no iPad!” 

“Harriet Samantha,” I say, kneeling to her level while Saige clambers into her car seat. “Who makes the rules? Me, or you?” 

She pinches her lips and blinks hard, narrowing her eyes. I don’t wait for her answer. 

“I do,” I say. “And your sister cooperated while you stood there and fought with me.” 

“She did not!” she opposes. 

“I’m done arguing,” I say, trying to keep my voice even though it badly wants to wobble. “Get in the car. Now.” 

“I don’t  _ like _ you, mommy,” Harriet says, wavering as she starts to cry while buckling herself in. “I really, really, really don’t like you.” 

“That’s fine,” I say, gritting my teeth to keep my composure. 

Harriet has a mind of her own, but it’s not like her to act out like this. At the end of the day, all the blame comes back to me. I know that much, and it only makes the situation worse. 

…

Harriet storms upstairs when we get home, and I don’t stop her. Saige stays with me downstairs in the drafty house, and I open some windows to get a spring breeze flowing in. The air is stagnant and old-smelling. Everything in here reminds me of him.

“Saigey,” I say, after I’m done doing what I can for our living space. I already ordered a pizza on the way home, and all we have to do is wait for it. 

She looks over from her spot on the middle of the rug in the living room. Her hair is tousled in the two braids I put it in this morning, frayed around her ears. 

“I need to talk to you about today,” I say, walking over. I sit down in the armchair and she crawls over quietly, pulling herself onto my lap. 

“I was bad,” she says, looking down out of shame. She picks at something on her dress and doesn’t lift her head. “Then you got mad and sissy got mad.”

“Hey,” I say, very gently. I touch her chin and lift her face. “I’m not mad at you. I just need to know that you learned your lesson. That we don’t talk about that kind of stuff at school?” 

She nods. I close my eyes to try and think of some way to explain this morning in a way she’ll understand. It’s difficult, because I’m not even sure  _ I _ understand. 

“This morning, Jackson and I were in bed together and you saw us. And I wasn’t wearing any pants!” I widen my eyes for effect, and she giggles. “I’m sorry you saw that. We should’ve locked the door. It wasn’t for little eyes to see, and I’m sorry it confused you. But sometimes, grown-ups do funny things. And to kids, it’s so, so, so weird, right?” She nods. “But I don’t want you to worry about it. Me and Jackson will figure it out. It’s not for you to think about, okay?”

“I didn’t even thinked about it again, mommy, not all day,” she says. “I just thinked about it right now ‘cause you talked about it.”

I smile and kiss her cheek. “Okay,” I say. “Are you alright, then?” 

“I’m good,” she says. “Except I falled down and got another Band-Aid at recess and I bleeded a little. It still hurts.” 

She lifts her knee, where I see a blue bandage. I give it a firm kiss, and she smiles when I pull away.

“Magic Mommy kisses,” I say, nuzzling her nose with mine. 

Before the pizza comes, I turn on a TV show for Saige and make my way upstairs. I’m not content if Harriet and I aren’t on good terms; I have to smooth things over. It’s not fair to hold her accountable for being confused and upset. She’s only five years old.

I knock on her closed door, but she doesn’t answer. I push it open to find her laying in bed, facing the wall with a stuffed animal in her arms, legs pulled up to her chest. 

“Lovey,” I say, padding over. “It’s Mama.” 

She doesn’t move or give any sort of response. This might be the angriest she’s ever been at me - the first time I’ve gotten the silent treatment, though I’m sure it won’t be the last. 

I sit on the edge of the bed and lay a hand on her side. I almost expect her to shove it away, but she doesn’t. She lets it stay. 

“I’m sorry we fought,” I say, very quietly. “I don’t want us to be mad at each other.”

She breathes a little deeper and adjusts her grip on the stuffed animal, which I now see is a bunny. She runs its soft ears through her fingers repeatedly, and I mimic the motion over her ribcage. 

“I love you, baby,” I say. “And I don’t like yelling at you. I’m sorry for how that happened, and I’m sorry for springing the news on you like I did. It probably didn’t feel good.” 

“It didn’t,” she murmurs. 

“I know,” I sigh, and leave a big pocket of silence between us. “Things are confusing right now for everyone, and you’re caught in the middle, aren’t you? That can’t feel good. And staying at Daddy’s felt really good, when all of us were there. But that just can’t happen right now. I don’t know what the future will look like, whether or not we go back, but we just have to worry about what’s happening right now. And right now, we need to stay here and go back to our old schedule. It doesn’t mean he loves you any less, or that I do, or anything silly like that. Nothing is your fault, and we wanna keep your life as normal as we can.” 

I’m tempted to insert something about the trial involving Saige and her grandparents, but I leave it out. It’s easy to forget that Harriet is only five with how mature she can be, but I won’t burden her with that kind of information. Not until I have to. 

Finally, she rolls over. Her eyes are dry, as are her cheeks, and her face is more open than before. The anger lines are gone. 

“Do you and Daddy not wanna be best friends anymore?” she asks, voice as tiny as she is. 

My eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?” I say. 

“You don’t wanna be over there anymore,” she mumbles. “And you were being best friends while we were there. And now you’re not.” 

“No,” I say, cupping her jaw and stroking her smooth skin. “We’re still best friends. We still love each other very much. Not quite as much we love you, but…” That gets a smirk out of her. “We’re just in a weird, stressful time right now. When things settle down, we’ll see where we’re at. Is that an okay promise?” 

“That we might go back?” she says. “All of us?” 

“It’s a definite maybe,” I say. “It’s an ‘I’ll think about it.’” 

“That means almost yes,” she says, lighting up a bit more.

I spend a moment just looking at her, marveling the beautiful, imperfect creation that Jackson and I made together, then smile. “How about we start this night over again?” I say. “It’s just us girls in the house.”

“Girls’ night?” she asks, eyes widening. 

As if on cue, the doorbell rings to announce the pizza. 

“Pizza man, pizza man!” Saige shouts from downstairs. 

Harriet clambers out of bed, good as new. “I’ll get it!” she shouts, and I get up as well, following in her wake. 

…

“A home visit? What does that even mean?” I sputter.

I’m sitting across from Cristina in her office a few weeks later, eyebrows pushed together, confused and frustrated. With one leg crossed over the other, my foot hasn’t stopped bouncing since I sat down. 

“A social worker will come to your house and observe how you and Saige interact,” she explains. “They’ll be a fly on the wall. The point is that you to act as if they’re not there. Just act like you normally would.”

“But why?” I ask, leaning in with both hands capped over one knee. “Why is it necessary?” 

She exhales from her nose, glancing at the paperwork in front of her. “Because the Taylors claimed you don’t give Saige the attention she deserves,” she says. “Family court takes these kinds of accusations seriously, and it’s important for our case that you prove the claims wrong.” 

My face heats up instantly as I close my eyes to try and compose myself. My hands shake, and a bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck slowly until it disappears inside the collar of my dress. I didn’t think the Taylors could get any worse. I guess I’d been wrong. 

I open my mouth, unsure of what’s about to come out. “This isn’t fair,” I say, words exploding from inside as I burst up from my chair. “Saige is my daughter!” 

“I know,” Cristina says, keeping her cool while nodding. 

“Maybe not biologically, maybe she’s not my blood. But legally, that child is mine and she has been for three years. Three fucking years, Cristina! How can these people just come in and take her away from me? How is this even being entertained by the courts?” 

She shakes her head, but doesn’t look away. Her will is just as strong as mine, if not stronger. Unconsciously, I take a moment to thank God that I found her to represent my case.

“It works in strange ways, the legal system,” she says, laying her hands flat on her desk. “But I know everything there is to know about those ways. I’m going to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. I promise you I’m not going to let that happen.”

Wavering, I collapse back into the chair and instantaneously dissolve into tears. Hunched forward, I bury my face in my hands and sob harder than I have in a long time; so hard, it feels like my lungs might come out of my throat. I know I must look like an idiot, she must think I’m a fool, but I can’t stop. 

“April,” she says, after giving me a significant amount of time to just cry. “Can I ask where Jackson is today?” 

I resist the urge to cry harder at the mention of him, sniffling violently while wiping my nose. Seeing this, she hands me a tissue that I crumple in my hand after using. After that, she hands me the whole box. 

“He’s… at work, probably,” I say, voice still waterlogged. “We were married, at one point. I didn’t tell you that. And there have always been feelings, there are still feelings, but being with him was confusing for all of us.” I shake my head. “I thought it was best for everyone if we spent some time apart.” 

She watches me with dark brown, knowing eyes - eyes that clearly hold a lot of intelligence and a lot of thoughts. I can’t help but blink into them and feel comforted. 

“What I know is this,” she begins. “Right now, the best thing possible is to surround yourself with people who are in your corner. You need a support system. This isn’t going to work with you acting as an island, April. You still might get Saige back, but your mental health will suffer. Look how it’s already affecting you.” 

I dab at my eyes and hiccup, realizing what sort of state I’m in. It’s not a good one, that’s for sure. 

“Yeah,” I whimper, still sniffling. “The last few weeks have been really hard.” 

She clasps her hands together and leans forward, even closer. “You need to think of yourself, too, during all this,” she says. “Your relationship with Jackson in no way should hinder the trial or the verdict.”

“What about the Taylors, though?” I ask. “They hate him.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” she assures me. “It matters what the judge thinks, and how Saige is thriving. What does  _ she _ think of Jackson?”

“She loves him,” I say, easily. “She adores him, and he feels the same about her.”

“Then, I don’t see where the uncertainty is coming from,” she says. She extends an arm and pats my hand - solid and affirming. “You take care of your family, April. You do what you need to do.” 

…

Cristina’s words sit with me for the rest of the day and into the night. The girls and I have an easy evening full of coloring pages and macaroni, and they fall to sleep easily after a bath and two stories. Then, I’m left alone in the empty house that hasn’t stopped feeling scarily cavernous since Matthew’s death. 

This place has never felt like mine, but now that feeling is only accentuated. Nothing in here belongs to me, at least that’s how it seems, even if I was the one to pick it out. This isn’t my space. My heart isn’t here. 

I know full well where my heart is. A person holds it, not a place.

Jackson and I have communicated sporadically over the past few weeks, mostly exchanging texts to coordinate Harriet’s pickups and dropoffs. It hasn’t been much more than that, but I want that to change. Cristina was right. I need to take care of myself and my family, and right now I can’t do that alone. At least, I don’t want to. I want to be with him.

So, I pull out my phone and type out a message to him.

**SENT, 9:38pm- hey, are you around?**

I keep my phone unlocked and set it on the coffee table next to me, looking over every couple seconds. No typing bubble comes up on his end, even after a full ten minutes have gone by. So, I pick up the phone and try again. 

**SENT, 9:50pm- I really need to talk to you. I had a conversation with my lawyer that really helped me see things clearer. I wasn’t fair to you when I pushed you away. I’m really sorry, J. It was selfish, and I always do stuff like that to you. I want to be better at that. I’m sorry that I’m not. Can we get together and talk this through? I miss you so much.**

My thumb hovers over the little blue arrow, stomach jumping at the thought of sending this risky, heart-on-my-sleeve text. But, with one swift breath, I follow through. 

Yet it still goes unanswered. I can’t leave that text hanging, so I give in after a considerable amount of time has passed and call him. 

The phone rings and rings, and on the first try it goes to voicemail. The second time, though, he picks up frazzled and breathless, sounding very unlike himself. 

“Hey, what’s up,” he breathes. “I’m kinda in the middle of something right now.” 

I squint and look off to the side, wondering what it is that he could be in the middle of. I don’t think he’s working tonight, unless he’s on-call. But if that were the case, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone at all. I would’ve gotten the picture and given up after the third try.

“Um…” I say, clearing my throat. “Did you get my text?”

There’s a long pause before he answers where it seems like he might be talking to someone else. “I… no, doll, I’m sorry. I didn’t. I mean, yes, I got the text. But I didn’t get a chance to read it yet. I see the notification, but I’m just a little preoccupied right now.”

“Preoccupied?” I echo. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

Then, I hear a strange sound. One I haven’t heard from his end of the phone in years. A baby crying. A baby that sounds very upset. 

“Jackson,” I say, thoroughly confused. “Is that a baby?” 

He clears his throat again and make comforting sounds, like he’s the one soothing the baby. He doesn’t answer me. His mind is elsewhere.

“Jackson,” I say. “Are you at home?” 

“What?” he says. “Uh, yeah. I’m home. Sorry, I just have a billion things going on. I have to hang up, but we’ll talk soon, okay? I gotta go.” 

And before I have any say in the matter, the line goes dead. 

I stare at the screen, seeing that the conversation was less than a minute long. My brain goes haywire trying to figure out what just happened. He said he was home, which means there’s a baby at his house? A very fussy one, no less. It didn’t sound like an infant cry, but it wasn’t a little-girl cry like the ones I hear so frequently. I don’t think he has any friends with young children; and if he does, why would he be the one soothing them? None of it makes sense, but he seemed so harried. I don’t want to bother him with a call back. 

So, I take the phone upstairs and get ready for bed. I plug it into the charger and go through my routine, then slide into the same side as always. 

I lie there awake, hands folded under one cheek as I stare out the window. The thought of the strange phone call keeps me up for hours, until I finally fall into a restless sleep.

…

After I drop the girls off at school the next day, I check my phone quickly before pulling out of the parking lot. 

**RECEIVED, 8:13am- Hey. I know last night was weird. Come to the hospital and I’ll explain everything. -J**

I can’t help but smile at his message, though I wipe it from my face as soon it comes. I am not a lovestruck young girl. I refuse to behave like one when we’re trying to handle our situation as adults. 

**SENT, 8:14am- You don’t have to sign your texts, you know ;) and sure. I can head there right now.**

I put the phone down and shift the car into drive, headed to the place I haven’t been in so long. The roads are familiar, I don’t even need to think about navigation. I could drive to Grey Sloan in my sleep. 

I can’t park in the place I used to because I’m not longer employed here, but I don’t mind the walk through the parking lot. It’s a beautiful day, and if I ignore the twisting in my gut from whatever Jackson has to explain, then I’m able to find myself feeling somewhat at ease. Being in this place where so many memories were made is comforting. It feels more like home than home does. 

When I walk through the doors, I’m greeted immediately by a couple of nurses that were always my favorite. “Dr. Kepner!” they say, excitedly. “How are you? What are you up to?” 

I give them each a big hug and tell them I’m looking for Jackson, and they tell me he’s in the attendings’ lounge. I thank them and head that way, running into a few familiar faces as I go. I give out plenty of hugs, but the biggest smile is definitely saved for Dr. Bailey, who’s just coming out of the lounge that I’m headed towards. 

“Kepner!” she says, eyebrows raised. “What in the world are you doing here?” 

“Looking for Jackson,” I say, hugging her tightly. 

“Ah,” she says. “Mr. Sulks-A-Lot is in there, brooding. He’s been in a mood all day. Something’s definitely going on.” 

“I know,” I say. “That’s why I’m here.” 

“Well, you better snap him out of it,” she says. “He has a big surgery at 1, and I need his head in the game.” 

“Will do, Dr. B.,” I say, with another smile. 

She smiles back, then her expression turns serious as she gently holds my upper arm. “I’ve heard about what’s going on between you and Matthew Taylor’s family,” she says, keeping her voice low. “And about you quitting your job at the clinic. I just want you to know that if you ever want to come back here, there will always be a place for you. We’re your family, Kepner.” 

My eyes well up with tears, but I don’t let them fall, even though my chest swells with gratitude. “Thank you,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I… you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” 

“All you gotta do is holler,” she says. “And you can start work the next day. That’s my word. You understand?” 

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good,” she says, then pats my bicep. “Now, get in there and figure out what’s up with that moody man.” 

I give her one more smile and hug, then open the door to the lounge, which is thankfully empty save for Jackson on the couch. He doesn’t look over at the sound of the door; instead, he continues to stare out the window with an absent expression on his face, looking totally lost.

“Hey,” I say, hands clasped at my waist. 

He jumps before acknowledging me, eyes flighty and unlike I’ve seen them in a while. Usually, he’s the picture of stability and focus, but that’s far from the case right now. 

“Sorry,” I say, inching forward. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s fine,” he says. 

I point a thumb behind me. “I was just talking to Bailey,” I say. “She said I could have my job back whenever I wanted it.” 

His face lifts a bit. “That’s awesome,” he says. 

“Yeah,” I say. “It is. I think… after all this dies down, that I will. I will come back.” 

“That’s amazing,” he says, nodding. 

“Yeah,” I say again, coming even closer. I can feel whatever’s on his mind in the air between us, crackling like static. “So… what is it that you wanted to talk about?” 

He takes in a shallow breath, then presses his lips together. He gestures towards the empty half of the couch and says, “You should sit.” 

“Okay…” I say warily, lowering down to sit across from him. “You’re making me kinda nervous.” 

“Well,” he says, quirking one eyebrow and laughing humorlessly. 

“What is it, Jackson?” I ask. 

He closes his eyes and rubs one of them with a closed fist, then sighs. “You heard the baby on the phone last night, I’m assuming,” he says. “The crying.” 

“Yeah,” I say. “Who was that?”

He lets out another long, loud breath. “Uh… well, long story short,” he says. “Last night, I found out that I have a son.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**JACKSON**

April’s always had expressive eyes. They’re her tell, her dead giveaway, what I can always read if I doubt what’s coming out of her mouth. 

But she doesn’t say a word after I drop the bomb, she just stares at me, those telling eyes wide and full of emotion. Shock, mostly. But laced in there as well is pain, reproach, and betrayal, too. I feel sick. 

I don’t know why I do it, but I decide to repeat myself. It’s stupid. It’s not like she didn’t hear me, of course she did, or else she wouldn’t be looking at me in the way she is right now. 

“A son,” I say, filling the stagnant air. 

She opens her mouth, then presses her lips gently together again. Only for a moment, though, before she parts them again to say, “Samuel.” 

My face heats up, and hers blushes a crimson red. My mouth goes dry, I swallow hard, and pinch my eyes shut tight for a moment. Before I can say anything to disagree, that no, I didn’t mean Samuel and now I feel even worse, she speaks again. 

“I don’t know why I said that,” she murmurs. Now, she won’t meet my eyes. That’s not a good sign. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not… he was just the first thought…” She shakes her head. “I know that’s not what you meant.” 

I clear my throat and scrub a hand over my face, sighing loudly as I try to figure out how to handle this. In reality, I could sit here and think about it all I want, but nothing I say will ever be good enough.

“We should sit,” I say, gesturing to the couch. “Unless you’re busy. Are you busy right now?” 

“You know I’m not,” she says. “You called me here in the middle of the morning.” 

“Right,” I say, sweating nervously. “Right.” 

She lowers to the couch and crosses one leg over the other, eyeing me warily like I’m suddenly a brand new person. She’s wearing a pair of athletic leggings with pink tennis shoes, a zip-up jacket on top. She keeps messing with the zipper and drawing my attention to her hands, with their bare, circular nails. She’s always kept her nails nice, no matter what. 

I shake my head. Why am I thinking about her nails? I’m stalling. 

“Jackson,” she says, calling me back to myself. “Can you just explain what’s going on, please? I’m… you called me here to talk and all you’re doing is staring at me.” 

“Sorry,” I breathe, staring at the Nike symbol on her pants. “Sorry, it’s just… it’s a lot. I didn’t know about any of this until last night. I wasn’t keeping this from you.” 

She sizes me up, eyes narrowed, like she’s not sure whether or not to believe me. I feel worse than I have yet, knowing the trust she invested in me is being tested. I feel like standing up and screaming,  _ It’s not my fault! I had no clue he existed! I’m in the same boat as you are! _

“So, you have a son,” she begins, trying to edge me into the conversation since I can’t seem to do it on my own. 

I blink hard. Hearing those words directed at me, spoken by someone else, sends me reeling. I have a son. 

“How old is he?” she continues. 

My brain is muddled. I have to think hard for a long moment before his age comes back - his mother had told me hurriedly last night, without much weight added. 

“Eighteen months,” I say. 

Her eyes flit this way and that, and if I know April, she’s doing the math. I did, too, when I first found out. And there’s no questioning that it adds up - eighteen months ago, plus a nine month pregnancy, equals the time in my life where I’d been having a casual fling with Stephanie Edwards. It didn’t mean anything, we weren’t a couple by any means - neither of us wanted a relationship. I assumed when she fell off the face of the earth and dropped all communication, that meant she was done with whatever we were doing and I was perfectly fine with it. 

That is, until now. 

“Who’s the mother?” April asks. 

I run my hand over my trimmed facial hair, listening to the scratchy sound it makes. “Stephanie Edwards,” I say. 

“The intern,” April says, deadpan. Her eyes are no longer expressive, but completely devoid of feeling. It unsettles me more than I can say. 

“Well, no,” I say. “It was after she was done here at the hospital that things started. We ran into each other at a bar, and it just… I don’t know. Went from there.” 

“I don’t wanna hear about how it went,” she snaps, and anger twists in my stomach. 

“April, you can’t get mad at me for having a relationship while we were separated. You were  _ married _ . What was I supposed to do, wait for you? Follow you around?” 

“Of course not,” she says, but her eyes are still cold. 

“I had no idea about the baby,” I say, finally feeling strong enough to launch into an explanation. A semblance of one, at least. “I found out when Steph knocked on my door last night with him.” 

“How do you know he’s yours?” April says, and stands up quickly. She crosses her arms, a defensive move, and huffs from her nose. “She could be lying. She could want something from you.” 

“She doesn’t want anything,” I say, trying to stay calm. The last thing I need is for this to turn into a fight. “That was kind of the point. She couldn’t take care of him anymore. I tried calling and texting after she left, but nothing went through. I’m trying to be transparent with you, but you’re not listening.” 

“I’m doing my best!” she insists, jutting her chin in my direction. “Imagine how this makes me feel.”

“I didn’t betray you, April,” I say. “I never went behind your back. This is as new to me as it is to you. You’re being unfair.” 

“Excuse me for trying to deal with this information,” she says. “That my husband has a son that isn’t mine.” 

“Your husband?” I say, eyebrows up. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“And if we’re going there, you have a daughter that’s not mine,” I say. 

She flips her head violently to look at me. “That’s different. Don’t you dare throw that in my face.” 

“Then don’t be a hypocrite.” 

She falls silent, knocked down a peg. 

“What’s his name?” she asks, a moment later.

“Are you gonna let me tell you what happened?” I ask, and I take her absence of a response as a response in itself. “She showed up at my door last night with the baby. She looked fine, she didn’t look like she was in any trouble or distress or anything. I would’ve called… someone, if she had looked like that. If I even knew who to call. She handed him to me, told me he’s mine, and left. The interaction didn’t last more than five minutes; she refused to come in when I invited her.” I take a moment to soak it up, a pause where it all sinks in and becomes real. “DNA’s going through now, just to make sure. But I’m already sure. She’d have no reason to lie.”

“She apparently has a reason to drop a child off at your front door,” April replies. 

I scratch my cheek, studying her. “His name is Kai.” 

She meets my eyes for a fleeting moment, then stares at her lap where her fingers are twined together. She sniffles, rubs her nose, then clears her throat. 

“Where is he right now?” 

“The daycare,” I say, nodding towards the door. “I, uh, I didn’t really have another choice this morning.” 

Creases appear on her forehead. “What did you tell the staff?” 

I shrug. “I didn’t really get into it. I just dropped him off."

“Jesus,” she says. 

I rub the back of my neck, unsure of how to proceed. “Um… do you wanna see him?” 

She looks up like I’ve suggested something totally insane, eyes wide and eyebrows low. Her mouth is set in a stubborn frown, and she doesn’t look as if she plans on softening anytime soon. 

I’ve been thinking about the kid all day, wondering if he’s alright down there. But at the same time, I’ve been scared to go and check. By looking him in the face, holding him, taking care of him, that makes this situation all the more real. What happens tonight, when I take him home? What happens on Friday, when I’m supposed to have Harriet for the weekend? What do I tell her? What does the rest of my life look like now? 

“Sure,” she says, surprisingly.

“Alright,” I say, and get up from the couch.

We walk to the daycare in silence, matching stride with one another, a thousand thoughts steaming between us. I have no clue what’s running through her mind, and I’m not sure if I want to know. She’s not happy, she’s made that blatantly clear. I didn’t expect her to be. I don’t know what I expected.

I notice she starts to wring her hands as we get closer, and I put on a brave face. I have nothing to be worried about… except everything. I’m introducing the love of my life to a baby I just met yesterday whom I apparently fathered. I’m scared shitless that this will be the last straw for April, and everything we’ve begun to rebuild will shatter to nothing. Then, after that, there won’t be another chance.

“Hey, Dr. Avery,” one of the staff greets me.

“Hi,” I say. “Just dropping by.” 

She gives me a strange look, probably because Harriet hasn’t been in this daycare for a couple years now. I don’t show my face often around here anymore, because I don’t need to. Well, I didn’t. That much can’t be said anymore.

April trails behind, waiting for cues from me I assume. I walk in with confidence, looking for my boy, and find him sitting on the floor in the outfit I put him in this morning. Steph had sent him with a good amount of clothes, and he’s wearing a pair of blue jeans and a gray t-shirt. He has a couple of blocks in his hands, knocking them together as he stares intently forward.

I can’t help but smile when I see him. He has this concentrated look on his face, lower lip pushed out with those chubby cheeks, that reminds me so much of Harriet when she was that little. It strikes me just then - that very moment - that Kai is her half-brother. Harriet has a brother. 

April finds him without me having to say anything, and she can’t tear her gaze away. She’s chewing on a thumbnail, which is something I haven’t seen her do in forever, entirely concentrated. 

“I’d like to meet him,” she finally murmurs, as I’ve kept my distance from the little boy in question. 

“Sure,” I say, then make my way through the group of kids standing in my way. April waits in the open area while I gather him up, watching us from afar. “Hey, buddy,” I say, and my little boy looks at me from the ground with wide, watery eyes. Suddenly, fear strikes my gut and I realize I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I haven’t taken care of a baby for years, I don’t know if I remember anything. I don’t know any details about his schedule - how much he eats and when, what time he naps, what size diapers he wears. I’m up shit creek without a paddle, overwhelmed beyond belief. 

As I look into the eyes of my little boy - my eyes, Harriet’s eyes - my heart starts to beat harder as I feel more alone than ever. I can’t ask April for help with him. She played no part in his creation. She probably doesn’t want anything to do with him. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I have a feeling it won’t be anything good.

“Hey, little guy,” I say, and pick him up from the floor. 

I situate him on my hip and he stares at me, eyes growing glassier by the second. He blinks, yelashes long as hell, and the first tear falls over and slips down his cheek. 

“Hey, hey…” I say, trying to sound soothing. “Don’t cry. I gotcha. Daddy’s gotcha!” 

It’s strange, to say the least, saying that to a baby I met just a handful of hours ago. It doesn’t make him feel any better, either, as he starts to cry harder and turn his head away, refusing to even look at me. 

I bounce him up and down, making shushing sounds to try and calm him. It doesn’t work, though, as I walk through the kids again, back towards April. Once we reach her, he’s stuck a fist in his mouth and is crying through it, cheeks shiny with tears. 

“This is Kai,” I say, raising my voice a bit to be heard over his wails. 

April studies him for a moment, a thousand thoughts buzzing behind her eyes. Then, in one swift movement, she reaches out and takes him from my arms. He goes to her willingly, without a fight, and when she holds him on her chest, he relaxes instantly. 

She rubs his back slowly, in gentle circles, and bounces on the balls of her feet. Kai sighs, resting his hands on April’s sternum, and stares at me with wary eyes while in her arms. 

“How…?” I stammer. 

“He likes to be held this way,” she says. 

“How would you know that?” I ask. 

“He obviously didn’t like being held the way you had him,” she points out. “This must be how Mama did it.” 

“We… don’t have to talk about her, you know,” I say, uncomfortable. 

“He’s confused and scared,” April says. “All he needs is some comfort. What did she leave you with? Notes, lists, anything?” 

I shake my head. “A bag of clothes and a few diapers, but that’s all. A pacifier, too, I think.” 

“You need to get him tested for any allergies,” she notes. “If she didn’t give you any clues as to what he might be allergic to, you’ll be better off knowing. I still have Saige’s crib at the house, you can use that, unless you still have Hattie’s.” 

I shake my head no. 

“We have a bunch of old baby toys in the attic that no one uses anymore. They’re yours, if you want them. Unfortunately, all the old clothes are for girls. And he’s a big boy, so they probably wouldn’t fit him, anyway.” She pauses. “A high chair, bibs, kid and baby silverware, plates and bowls. Shoes, because he’ll start growing out of them fast. Baby soap, lotion, shampoo…” She sighs. “You should write this down.” 

She says all this while still swaying, rocking Kai and rubbing his back. When I look at his face, I see that his eyes are almost closed and one cheek is squished against April’s collarbone. I watch him fight sleep for a moment until he gives in, eyelids shutting entirely as he leans even heavier against her. 

“He fell asleep,” I say. 

She flashes me a small grin. It’s not much, it’s not characteristic of April at all. I have no idea what she’s feeling, and it puts me on edge. I want her to just come out with it, but she won’t.

“He likes you,” I say.

“He misses his mom,” she says. “A soft, female figure. I’m probably the closest thing he’s got right now. He doesn’t know any better.” 

I chew the inside of my lip, unsure how to respond. With everything I say, she either shuts me down or diverts completely. I’m not used to her like this, with her guard up. I’m used to being one of the few who’s able to knock that down and see the real April inside. The feeling of being among the many on the outside is not a good one. 

We stand across from each other for what seems like an eternity, looking around the room, everywhere but at each other. April continues to hold Kai close, one hand flat on his back now while the other supports him from underneath. I wonder if her arms are getting tired, but I don’t ask. I’m thinking about something else now. 

“So, your call last night,” I begin, shifting my weight from foot to foot. “Um… I read the text, too.” 

She presses her lips together and avoids my eyes, even as I keep mine trained on her face. 

“We should probably talk about that,” I say. 

She shakes her head tersely, closing her eyes for a moment. “Not now,” she says. 

“Then when?” I prompt. 

“I don’t know,” she says. “But not now. It isn’t the right time.” 

“It’s never gonna be the right time,” I say. “We might as well put everything out there.” 

Her eyes cloud over with something I can’t read, and I don’t like how that’s become a trend. Everything is a mess - between us and otherwise - and right now, it feels unrepairable. I never wanted things to revert to this - I thought we’d grown from this. But in this moment, April is holding my son that isn’t hers, looking at me with a cool expression. This isn’t the version of her I know, nor the one I fell in love with. But then again, I’m not sure if this version of myself is the one she fell in love with, either.

“If you read the message, then you already know,” she says, and if I’m not mistaken, she turns her face a bit to press her nose into Kai’s hair. I washed it last night with my shampoo - I’m not sure how good that is for his scalp, but I can tell April likes the way it smells. She’s not slick. 

“I’m saying we should talk about it,” I say. “You said you were sorry for pushing me away, but now you’re doing it again. Why is that?” 

She scoffs and laughs simultaneously, and the sound digs in like a sharp knife just below my ribs. “Things have changed in the past hour, Jackson,” she says. “Pretty much everything has, actually.”

“So, tell me how things were before it all changed, then,” I press. 

She sets her jaw and looks at me wearing a hard expression. “I talked to Cristina,” she begins, finally conceding. “It was more like a therapy session than anything. I wasn’t letting myself cry before, I wasn’t letting myself miss you, and then she asked where you were during my appointment. And once she did, everything broke loose. It was physical pain, all of it. I broke down and she listened, then basically turned my advice to myself on its head. She said that I needed to surround myself with a strong support system, not distance myself from it. And hearing that come from her, I don’t know, it put it in perspective for me. So, that’s why I went home and texted you. I wanted us to be on the same page, for once. I felt horrible for how I just dropped you like it was nothing, only used you when I needed a shoulder to cry on. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t… supposed to be like that.” 

I keep watching her. I don’t think she’s finished.

“I’m not gonna take it back, I do miss you. I miss you like hell, and the kids do, too. I miss you just being around, making us laugh. I miss… spending time with you.” She adjusts the weight of the baby. “You’re my best friend. Of course, it doesn’t feel right, pulling away from you. But I always find myself doing it. I was ready to be done with that, to get over it. But that can’t happen anymore. Now isn’t the time for any sort of reunification, or anything like that. Not with a new baby.” 

I take a minute to absorb everything she said. She misses me, in every way that exists to miss someone. I miss her, too - every night spent without her has been entirely shit. I hate falling asleep without her next to me in bed, I hate waking up with that same empty space staring at me. I miss cooking with her, reading with her, taking care of the kids with her. I miss her presence in general. She lights up the house and brings it to life. It’s dull without her there. She’s the piece missing, she always has been. 

“April,” I say, trying to voice my tangled thoughts. 

I know I’ll probably say too much standing here in the hospital daycare, but if we try and move this conversation anywhere else, it’ll break off and she’ll find a way out. I can’t let that happen. We need to put these words out there.

“What,” she says, sounding defeated. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” I say. “Believe me. I’m still trying to stomach it, too. But… we’ve gotten through worse together, haven’t we?” 

“Jackson…” she says, shaking her head. There’s a flighty look in her eyes that makes me want to hold onto her shoulders and ground her in place. “Stop. This isn’t like anything else we’ve gone through.” 

“But why can’t it be?” I say. “We have Harriet, our beautiful little girl. She’s ours. We made her. And I remember that night like it was yesterday. We didn’t think anything would come of it, we thought that night was goodbye, and look what happened? _ She  _ happened. That gorgeous, brilliant, special baby happened.” I swallow hard, hoping she’s still willing to listen to wherever I’m trying to go with this. “Then, you married Matthew. I had no idea how I was supposed to move forward after that. I never thought we’d be friends again, but we were. And you have Saige. That little spitfire, who I couldn’t imagine with anybody else. And now… well, what? We have one more. I made a mistake a few years ago, but something was came from it. He’s right here, there’s no changing it. So, why can’t we get through this, too?” 

Her eyes are watering, lower lip trembling. When she opens her mouth, strands of spit cling between her lips and waver as she breathes - she’s upset. She’s on the verge of sliding down a very slippery slope. 

“I can’t,” she whimpers. “You were with someone else, Jackson. You slept with someone else.” 

“April,” I say, sternly. “You can’t be serious. I’m not gonna sit here and listen to that as if you and Matthew never had sex.” 

“It’s more than that,” she argues. “You made a baby with her. You brought a human into this world with another woman.” She grits her teeth together. “You fathered someone else’s child.” She takes a breath and tries to calm herself, but it doesn’t quite work. “I’m not faulting you for it. You had no romantic tie to me then, I know I can’t be mad, but I am. And I’m hurt. I can’t control the way I feel, and you can’t ask me to.”

“I’m not,” I say. “I’m just asking you to listen and try to understand.” 

“I understand perfectly fine,” she says, as tears slide down her cheeks. “But I can’t do what you’re asking of me. Not right now. I don’t know anything right now. They’re trying to take my child away, but you’re asking me to take in another one. Do you know what kind of a position that puts me in?” 

She tucks her hair behind her ear with one hand, still using the other to hold my son. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she hasn’t let go of him yet, though I don’t know why.

“I wasn’t in love with her,” I say, grasping for straws. 

I hadn’t planned on laying it out there like that, not in the vicinity of a handful of listening ears and babies, but I have no other choice. I need her to stay. I can’t handle it if she runs again. I don’t have a fallback, I have no net. A life with her and the kids is all that I’ve imagined. With anything else, there’s just a blank space. 

“I haven’t ever been in love,” I say, the truth making my voice crack. “Not with anyone except you. Not once. You were the only one, and you’ll always be that only one for me, April. I don’t know how else to tell you. Do you want it on a billboard? A damn blimp? I never stopped loving you! Not when we had our ups and downs in the beginning, not when you got together with Matthew the first time, not when we disagreed during our marriage, not when Samuel died-” 

She physically cringes, hearing that inserted into conversation so easily. I falter, the words clogging my throat for a fleeting moment before I continue. She’s wounded now, shot and vulnerable. Her body language shows it.

“I never stopped,” I say. “And I don’t think you did, either. You told me you loved me when we were together, and it came so easily, didn’t it? You didn’t even have to try.” She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. “I know,” I say. “Because I didn’t, either. It just happened. That’s how it always goes between us, April, we just happen. And we deal with life as it comes. How come this can’t just be another part of life?” 

She blinks rapidly, beads of water sticking to her eyelashes as her chest rises and falls in quick succession. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t.”

“April,” I say. “Please.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says again, then without much warning, lifts Kai off her chest and hands him back to me.

Upon being woken up, he fusses and starts to cry soon after. I try to place him on my chest in the way she did, but it’s not the same. His body stiffens and he pushes against me, fighting my grip. 

“Come over later,” I say. “We can talk about it in a better place. A place that isn’t here.”

She crosses her arms, slowly making her way out of the daycare. I see what she’s doing, though she’s subtle about it. She’s getting away. 

“I need space,” she says, holding one palm up flat. “The trial starts tomorrow. That needs to be all that’s on my mind.”

I don’t try and follow her. Instead, I stand there with my heart crushed under my feet, everything that I put out in the open scraped to the side. It’s like I said nothing at all. Like none of it mattered. 

“Sure,” I say, voice nearly inaudible over Kai’s uncomfortable whimpers and squalls. “Well, I guess I’ll see you Friday then, for drop-off.” 

She looks at me pensively, and this time I already know what’s running through her mind.

“I gotta tell Harriet sometime,” I say. “He’s not going anywhere.” 

She wipes more tears away, off her cheeks. I hate the thought that occurs to me, involuntary as ever, that she’s even beautiful when she cries. 

“Right,” she says, voice trembling even after she clears her throat. “Well, I’ll call you when the day gets closer.” 

“Sounds good.” 

And with that, she turns around and walks away. I watch her back as she heads towards the main doors, away from everything I just laid out for her. Now, I’m the one who feels betrayed. 

…

Kai is quiet in the car on the way home, not energetic in his car seat like I’m used to. He stares out the window with round eyes, taking in the world, and I find myself wishing he were a bit older so I could ask him what his life has been like so far. Where did he and Steph live? Was it a nice place? Did he know his grandparents? 

My guess would be no, because if he did, I probably wouldn’t be looking at him right now. 

“Just me and you, bud,” I say, glancing in the rearview mirror as we pull into the driveway. “But in a few days, you get to meet your sister.” 

I fast-tracked the DNA results and got them just before leaving the hospital. The little man in the back seat watching me like I’m about to do something shady is definitely mine. I didn’t have doubts in the first place; Steph isn’t a liar, and she’d have no reason to bend the truth anyway. 

The idea of telling Harriet that she has a brother is a daunting one, and imagining their first meeting is even more intimidating. She’s so good with Saige, she loves having her as a little sister, but I don’t know how accepting she’ll be of Kai. It’ll be hard to explain it in a child’s terms. With Saige, the integration with Matthew’s family was acceptable because it happened in front of her. She watched it unfold. But with Kai’s sudden arrival, it’s like he poofed out of thin air. I can’t exactly tell her that I had relations with another woman while her mommy was married.

I try and clear my mind, though, because there’s nothing to be done right now. The introduction won’t happen for a few days, and I have time to plan how it will go. Right now, I need to worry about Kai and getting him comfortable. Since leaving April’s arms earlier today, he’s been tense and on-edge, which is no way for a baby to be. 

I pick him up out of his seat and balance him on one hip, carting my messenger bag on the opposite shoulder. He cranes his neck away from me, whining softly, seemingly terrified. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say. “I know it’s weird, and you’re used to staring at a face that’s much prettier than mine. But we gotta get used to each other, right? You’re stuck with me, babe.” 

He presses his lips together, furrows his eyebrows, and whimpers. I try and ignore it while I take us inside, then set down my stuff before letting his feet touch the ground. 

“Shoes!” I say, realizing I sound a lot like April. I laugh to myself, but it’s humorless. 

She pissed me off earlier, speaking from both sides of her mouth, but I still miss her like hell. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. Is it not okay to miss her? Does she miss me? Do I need to stop obsessing over this? Probably. She has a lot more than just our relationship to worry about, but so do I. I don’t see why we can’t worry about those things together. It’s like she’s intent on not only punishing herself, but me, too. For what, I have no idea. 

I get Kai’s shoes off, then he toddles into the living room that I haven’t baby-proofed yet. April was right. I have a ton of things to do for this house before it’s safely livable for him. And, of course, in typical baby fashion, he goes straight for the wires. 

“Hey, hey, hey…” I say, coming up behind him to scoop him up. “Let’s avoid electrocution, at least on the first night, alright?” 

He doesn’t protest when I carry him into the kitchen, he doesn’t say anything at all. He’s stoically quiet when I set him on the floor, keeping an eye on him while I turn around to get the ingredients for a sandwich out of the fridge. 

“Damn,” I say. “What do you eat?” I rack my brain back to Harriet at 18 months, which feels like forever ago. I can’t remember shit, so I pull out my phone and type into Google:  **what do 18 month olds eat?**

I feel like an ass. But it’s better than calling April and asking her stupid questions that I should already know the answers to. 

“Oh,” I say. “I guess you eat what I do. Well, then let’s eat something a little better than a sandwich. I could make salmon. That’s good, right? That’s healthy. And… green beans, maybe some red potatoes? And a beer.” I chuckle to myself. “For me. You can have some juice. One day, though.” 

That’s a strange thought. 

Kai looks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language, still rooted in the spot on the kitchen floor where I plopped him down a second ago. He doesn’t move as I busy myself in the kitchen, making us the best dinner I can. I’m not a great cook, but I can hold my own. Having to cook for Harriet taught me that. April was always the one who took charge in the kitchen while we were married, but after a while I figured it was time I pulled my weight. She taught me everything I know. 

“We’re gonna cut it up small, so you don’t choke,” I say, once the food is ready. Kai still hasn’t moved, is still staring. I wonder what’s going on inside that mind of his. “And also… try and make you some sort of makeshift high chair.”

I find a crate and overturn it on a kitchen chair, and it fits perfectly while still leaving room for the back if he wants to eat comfortably.

“There we go,” I say, then set two plates on the table for us. I pick him up from the ground, set him on the rudimentary chair, and sit across from him. “It’s not great,” I say. “Mine needed salt. I don’t know the rules about salt and babies, though, so I left yours bland. Sorry about that.” 

I dig in, but he doesn’t move. He’s still staring at me. 

“Go ahead, man,” I say, nodding towards his plate. “You gotta be hungry. The daycare staff said you barely ate a thing today. A hunger strike isn’t gonna work around here. We Avery men need to eat.” 

He blinks and sighs, so I put down my fork and look steadily at him. 

“How about some help,” I say, picking up a piece of diced salmon. “Here it comes, don’t miss it!” 

Much to my surprise, he opens his mouth like a baby bird and accepts the salmon I put inside. I can’t help my smile - I’m pretty damn proud of myself. 

“There we go!” I say, triumphant, as he chews. “So, how is it?” 

He grunts and opens his mouth again, ready for more. I nod with gusto, finally feeling like I did at least one thing right. My kid is eating. He’s alive, and I’m keeping him that way. It’s the little things. 

…

When it’s time for bed, I hit a wall of exhaustion and I can’t figure out where to put Kai down. I don’t have a crib or a small bed, and I’m afraid he’ll fall off the couch. He won’t stop crying, and I’m at a loss.

The one person who would know how to fix this doesn’t want to talk to me. It’s not an option to call her, so I have to figure it out on my own. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” I say, bouncing him. I already changed his diaper and checked if he wanted a bottle. I think he’s just unhappy, which isn’t doing much for my morale. “I’m right here. I can’t give you much more than that.” 

I try and shift him to rest on my chest, but it isn’t easy like when April did it. He fights me, going rigid, and pushes me away. 

“Jesus, you’re strong,” I say, closing my eyes for a moment. “Okay. You’re probably tired. Right? Babies get cranky when they’re tired. I do, too. I get you. So, let’s go lay down. You’re gonna sleep with me tonight. I don’t think we have another option, and I’m gonna try not to roll over on you. Just holler if I snore.” 

He continues to blubber and wail on the way to the bedroom, then acts like I’ve committed a capital offense when I change him into pajamas. I check his diaper one more time, then take deep breaths as I bring him into my bedroom. 

“Here we go,” I say. “Nice, clean sheets. Let’s hit the hay.” 

I lay him down first and he rubs his eyes roughly, his whole body jerking as he tries to catch his breath from crying. He relaxes onto the pillow when I lay down, but still doesn’t stop whimpering. 

“You’re alright,” I say, lowering my voice so it’s more soothing. “I got you. I’m right here. Daddy’s got you.” 

The word doesn’t catch in my throat before it comes out; I don’t even hesitate. I just say it. And it feels good. 

I reach across the space between us and run my fingers through his hair, and his sounds stop because he’s surprised at the sudden touch. I repeat the motion, seeing that it quiets him, and let myself relax, too. 

“Tomorrow or the next day, we’ll go get you a nice haircut,” I say, very quietly. He’s watching me, but not with nervousness or intensity. Just resting his eyes on me now. “You had one of those before? Get those edges right, trim this down a little… yeah, those ladies at daycare won’t know what hit ‘em.” 

He doesn’t start up again. He takes a deep breath then exhales, and I hear it hitch a few times as he comes down from his crying spell. 

“You just go to sleep,” I say, still petting his hair. “And let me do the worrying.” 

…

April is on her way over to drop Harriet off, and I’m sitting on the front porch with Kai on my lap. It’s been three days, and he still hasn’t said a word or really made much sound at all. He still cries intermittently, as babies do, but other than that he’s the silent type, no matter how much I try and get him to talk. 

I’m sure he can say words. I read that 18-month-olds can say up to ten words, and I see it in his eyes that he’s smart. He just doesn’t want to open up yet, so I won’t force him. I’ve been waiting patiently.

What I’m not patient for is the sight of April’s car. I’m so nervous that I might throw up. We had a short phone conversation the other day where she said she’d leave the explanation behind Kai up to me. She said it wasn’t her place to prepare Harriet, and that she knew I could handle it on my own. I wouldn’t put so much stock in that thought, but I have to do my best. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to say, but I’ve spent the last three nights driving it into the ground. She’s my kid. He’s my kid. When it comes right down to it, it’s that simple.

When the car pulls in, I stand up. I see Harriet and Saige in the backseat, smiling. Harriet unbuckles herself as April says something in the rearview mirror, and Saige doesn’t move. I’m used to both of them coming to say hi, but apparently that won’t be the case today. April doesn’t get out, either. She just rolls down the passenger’s side window and leans over as I walk their way. 

“Daddy!” Harriet sings, slinging her backpack out of the car before rocketing out herself. 

She barrels against my legs and wraps her arms around them, then looks up at me with bright eyes and a shiny grin. April rebraided her hair - it was in French braids the last time I saw her, now it’s in two braided buns on top of her head. 

“Hey, beautiful,” I say, squeezing one of the hair buns. “You look cute. Lovin’ the hair.” 

“Thanks! Who’s the baby?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before she extends her fingers upwards and does grabby-hands at me. “Let me see him, daddy! I’ll be gentle.”

“Jackson,” April says, ducking her head so she can see me.

Looking between the two of them, I have to decide which one to cater to. So, I let Kai down and set him on the ground, and immediately Harriet takes his hand and leads him to the porch like she’s known him her whole life - that is, after shouting, “Bye-bye, Saigey!” 

“Hey,” I say, leaning on the open window of the car.

“Hi!” Saige says from the back seat, still buckled in. She bangs her feet against the seat and flashes a big, excited smile at me, chin pressed to her chest. 

“Hey, cutie,” I say. “Been missin’ you.” 

“Me, too,” she says, and giggles. 

I turn towards April, who, upon closer look, looks haggard and worn. There are dark circles under her eyes, her hair is flat, and her clothes are wrinkled. She doesn’t look herself at all. 

“I didn’t tell her anything,” she says. “I left it up to you.” 

“Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate that.” 

“You been okay?” she asks. 

“Um, fine,” I say, feeling like I can’t get into much more detail - not only because Saige is right here, but also because of the weary way she looks. I can’t possibly put anything else on her shoulders. “You?” 

“Uh…” she says, then glances to the back seat for a millisecond. “Making it.” 

“Alright,” I say. “You know you can call me, right?” 

She gives me a small smile, one that doesn’t mean much. My statement doesn’t sink in because of where we stand - if where we stand is any place at all. 

“Thanks,” she says. 

I’ve just opened my mouth to respond when the air is cut with a striking sound. A shriek, or more like a squeal, that makes my heart plummet to my stomach. I flip around in horror, expecting to see some awful accident that involves both my kids, but I don’t see anything of the sort. 

Harriet and Kai are lying in the grass, looking up at the clouds. She’s on her side, fingers dancing on his belly, tickling him. 

And he’s laughing. 


	9. Chapter 9

**APRIL**

With the trial having been going on for almost a week, it’s taking a toll on all of us. 

There has been a lot of deliberating between the opposing parties, and what comes next is my cross-examination. The Taylors have already taken their turn and it was brutal, to say the least. The thought alone of being on the stand makes my stomach twist and turn in a way that puts me dangerously close to vomiting. If simply thinking about it is enough to make me puke, I can’t imagine how I’ll feel once that day comes. 

What makes the situation even worse is how the Taylors are handling it. They spew abuse at me every chance they get, and at one point it was so bad that Cristina demanded them to be removed. She pulled me into an empty conference room and I dissolved in tears in her arms, and she let me. She promised something like that would never happen again and so far it hasn’t. 

I still haven’t told Saige and Harriet the complete story of where I go every day and why it makes me so upset upon coming home. It’s not only me who has to take the stand in a few days - Saige does, too. In my eyes, that’s cruel and I asked Cristina to fight tooth and nail for my three-year-old to stay behind the figurative curtain, but the Taylors insisted. A day or two after me, she’ll go up. So, there’s no way I can get out of telling her what’s going on, even though she probably won’t understand. 

As I make dinner and listen to the girls play, I decide that tonight should be the night I tell her. Tell both of them, really. I’ve been putting it off simply because of the frame of mind I’ve been in; nothing has felt quite right after learning about Jackson and his son. It’s been on my mind constantly, and listening to Harriet go on and on about her brother while trying to pretend that doesn’t dig the knife in deeper is difficult, to say the least. 

Every time she says the phrase ‘my brother,’ Kai is not the baby I think of. Though he is, in fact, her brother… he’s not my child. I didn’t birth him. She has a brother who came from me who we held for less than an hour and had to let go of. She never knew Samuel, her first brother, and Kai’s existence feels like a near-erasure of his. 

I know that it’s ludicrous to think like that, to place so much blame on a baby and in turn, Jackson. I can’t fault him for sleeping with someone while I was married, that’s insane. Logically, I’m aware of that. But my thoughts aren’t always rational. Sometimes, I revert to where I laid in that hospital bed with his arms wrapped around me, holding our newborn son with the broken bones who would not survive. 

Jackson already had a son, then he created a new one without me. I had nothing to do with Kai’s conception and that’s something I can’t wrap my head around yet. A child with Jackson’s blood but not mine doesn’t seem right. 

It’s hypocritical, harsh, and close-minded, I know. We’ve barely spoken since the blowout when I met Kai, exchanging only pleasantries. Harriet loves Kai and Jackson explained to her in a child’s terms how he came to be and she accepted it. While at home with Saige and me, she loves bringing him up. She’s five years old and just got a brand new baby brother. I shouldn’t be so upset with her for incessantly talking about him or the fact that she misses her daddy, no matter how much her words make me feel inadequate and second-best. 

“What we having for dinner, mommy?” Saige asks as she lies on the rug, knees bent and tights baggy around her ankles. They’re hand-me-downs from Harriet and still too tall. “I’m hungry.”

“I was thinking ravioli,” I say, rummaging around in the fridge for a frozen bag of pasta. “How’s that sound?” 

“I want tacos,” Harriet says, piping up from where she sits next to the dollhouse. 

“Not tonight, lovey,” I say, hearing the exhaustion laden in my voice. 

“Why?” she asks, whiny. 

“Because tacos are too much work and Mommy is tired tonight,” I say. 

“You’re always tired,” Harriet says, spitting the words like a physical assault. “No fair. I don’t want yucky raviolis.” 

“Yucky,” Saige echoes, and I let out a long breath as I stare into the freezer. 

“Raviolis are not yucky,” I say. “You both like them and that’s the last I want to hear of it. We are eating ravioli.” 

“No, I’m not,” Harriet says indignantly. “I’m calling Daddy and he’s gonna come pick me up and I can have dinner with him and my baby.”

My face reddens, heating up as it goes. I tighten my grip on the bag of pasta and turn around to see that she’s staring at me with hands planted on her hips, standing in the middle of the rug. “No one’s going anywhere,” I say, trying to keep calm. “Us three girls are gonna eat together. It’s Mommy’s night with you, Hattie.”

“I don’t want it to be,” she argues. “I want Daddy and Kai-Kai.” 

“Me, too,” Saige says, sitting up. “I go to Jackson’s, too.”

“None of us are going to Jackson’s!” I say, letting my voice reach a volume it never does. I’m not willing to sit back and let this turn into a two-against-one fight tonight, though. I don’t have the strength. “What we’re going to do is play quietly until Mommy gets dinner on the table, then we’re going to eat it. Then, we’re going to do bath and story time, and then little girls are going to bed and listening to their mommy. Do I make myself clear?” 

Silence follows. Both girls stare with wide eyes, not recognizing this side of me. I’m not sure if I recognize her, either, or if I even like her.

They don’t respond, which means there isn’t a fight. They continue to play like before and I put a pot of water on the stove to get it to a boil. I rest with my elbows on the counter and massage my temples, realizing now that tonight probably isn’t the best night to breach the news, but I have no choice. I can’t put it off anymore; waiting until the last minute would be a horrible and extremely unfair thing to do. 

As we sit at the table a little later and eat our ravioli, Harriet keeps her eyes downcast and Saige rambles about something that happened at school. Regretfully, not much of what she says sinks in because my mind is so busy worrying about everything to come and everything that’s already happening. 

Am I letting this trial tear us apart? I feel like I can’t do it all on my own. Back when Matthew was alive, before all of this happened and before I knew Jackson had a son, raising these little girls was easy. I basically did it on my own and I never struggled. Now, during all this strife, every night is a battle for a different reason. I can’t place the blame on them, though, and I never would. I know it’s my fault. I’m bogged down with too much stress to see straight with no one to help me.

Jackson was there for a while, and that was amazing. But I’m not so much of a masochist to ask him back now. I don’t know if I could bear to see him with that little boy, knowing who and what we lost. The thought alone stings and leaves bruises behind. 

“Saigey, Mommy isn’t even  _ listening _ ,” Harriet says, tearing me out of the web of thoughts I’d been caught up in. She isn’t wrong, either. I had been registering the rise and fall of Saige’s sweet voice, but not a single word sunk in. 

I raise my eyebrows and blink, reorienting myself with where I’m sitting, here with them. “Sorry, honey,” I say. “I was distracted. Deep in thought. Keep going.”

“You always do that now,” Harriet says, ever-observant. “You’re not the same Mommy anymore after you made Daddy leave.” She pauses for a second and puts her fork down. “Are you mad at him?” 

I shake my head. “No, sweetie. Why would I be mad at Daddy?” 

“Because he has a new baby and you don’t. He gets one all to his self.” 

“No,” I answer, trying to force a smile. “I’m… no, I’m not mad at Daddy.”

It’s not the whole truth, but getting into that mess with her would be impossible. She doesn’t need to worry about the complicated dynamics between Jackson and me. If I can barely keep up, I would never put that on my five-year-old’s shoulders. 

“Then why are you different?” she presses.

For a moment, I debate glossing over the truth and leaving her with a thin excuse. But then I remember the promise I made to myself, and decide to put it all out there for the both of them. Knowing it will be anything but easy, I open my mouth and tell myself that I have to start somewhere.

“Well,” I say. “Ever since Saige’s daddy died, things have been pretty hard and pretty different. Haven’t they?”

Saige nods. Harriet says, “We didn’t have any boys, then we had Daddy, then he went away. Now, you’re sad ‘cause he’s gone but you won’t let him come back.”

“It’s more than that,” I say. “It’s some grown-up stuff that I’m gonna try and explain because you both need to know. It’s very serious, though, so I need you to take it seriously. Can you both be my big girls and listen to Mommy?” They nod. “Okay. Well, after Saige’s daddy passed away, her grandparents came and saw what a wonderful little girl she is.” I smile at her, but she doesn’t return the expression. “Because her daddy isn’t around anymore, they thought it would be best if they got to take her home and raise her.” 

“No!” Saige cuts in, concern showing on her face. “I don’t wanna go with them!”

“I don’t want you to go, either,” I say, trying to keep calm. “I’m doing everything I can not to let them take you. I want you under this roof with us; we’re a family and we’re going to stay that way. While you guys have been at school this past week, I’ve been going to a place called a courthouse and explaining everything to a judge. He’ll be the one to decide where Saige goes. A lot of people love her and we’d all love to have her. Right? It’s good that a lot of people love you, beanie.” 

“I only want you,” she says, eyes glassy. “Only Mommy.” 

“I know,” I say, extending my arms to welcome her on my lap. She gets up from her chair and walks over, sniffling, before folding herself against my chest with her thumb in her mouth.

“Don’t make me go,” she mumbles, lips moving around her finger. 

“I’m trying,” I say. “I’m doing my very best.” 

“Is someone gonna take me?” Harriet asks, lifting her head with furrowed eyebrows. “Am I gonna have to leave?” 

“No, no, baby,” I say. 

“How come they want Saigey and not me?” she asks.

“Because…” I say, taking a deep breath. “They think that Saigey belongs to them. Matthew was her daddy and he was their son. They want more than just a piece of her, like I’m willing to give them. They want the whole thing. They want her with them all the time.” 

“I don’t like them,” Saige murmurs. “I don’t want to go away.” 

“But you’re her mommy,” Harriet says, digging to the bottom of the problem in a way I should’ve known she would. “So, they can’t have all of her. ‘Cause you get half always. Why do they think they get the whole thing? They don’t get the whole thing of me, and you’re my mommy, too.” 

“Well…” I say, wondering if I should get into the topic of Karen Taylor right now. I decide that it’s not the best time with Saige still being very young. I’ll tell her about the adoption when she gets to be Harriet’s age or maybe even older. “It’s because of Matthew, sweetie. They want her because he’s gone and having her around would make them feel better.” 

“But if she’s gone, then  _ we  _ would be sad,” Harriet says. “So, how is that even fair if one person’s sad with another person’s happy?” 

“It isn’t fair,” I say, stroking Saige’s soft hair. “It’s really unfair, you’re right. That’s why I’m doing everything I can to fight it. I’m fighting for you, baby.”

“I don’t wanna go,” Saige mumbles, pressing her face into my neck. 

I close my eyes for a moment and squeeze her. “It’s why I haven’t been fun Mommy,” I explain. “I don’t love either of you any less, I’m just going through a hard time trying to figure this out. I need you to be patient with me while it’s happening, okay? I can try to be better, too.” 

Saige nods, curling her fingers around the collar of my shirt. Harriet agrees too, watching me with unblinking eyes that hold an expression scarily alike to something of Jackson’s.

“Mommy,” she says, scooting out of her chair to walk towards me. She stands at my side and rests her hands on my forearm, looking into my face with sincerity. “Sorry for being mean about ravioli.” 

My heart bursts and tears prick the backs of my eyes. I take one hand away from Saige and hold the back of Harriet’s head, moving her closer so I can kiss her forehead. I linger for a while, soaking her in, and look into her eyes when I pull away. “It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, voice clogged with tears. “Come here.” 

She crawls onto my lap alongside her sister and wraps her arms around my neck for a big hug. I hold both of them tightly and hope that our days as a little nuclear family aren’t numbered. I don’t know how I’d survive without this, without both of them in front of me where I can watch them grow and thrive. 

“I love you both,” I say, trying my hardest not to cry. I don’t want them to be more worried than they already are and it’s scary for them to see me cry. “You know that, right?” 

I don’t need an answer, really. I already have one. They cling to me tightly and none of us finish our ravioli. I let them go to bed without a bath, and we fall asleep in my bed after three stories. I can barely admit that it’s more for my sake than theirs. 

…

The day before I’m due to appear on the stand, it’s time to drop Harriet off at Jackson’s. I expected him to be calling me all week for baby advice, but I’ve barely gotten so much as a text. I’m not sure how to feel as we head over to his house, so as relief floods through me when I see him on the porch, I’m surprised to say the least. 

“Mama, come see Kai-Kai!” Harriet says, unbuckling herself in a hurry. “Daddy, I’m here!” she shouts out the window. “Mama, you coming?” 

“Sure, babe,” I say, though I feel weary. What I wanted most was a quick drop-off so Saige and I could get back home, order a pizza, and pop in a movie. She had a long day at school, so I expect an early night for the both of us. 

Harriet sounds so excited, though, and the smile on Jackson’s face is tempting as he stands with Kai. The baby is resting on his hip, watching the car with curiosity. When he sees Harriet, his face breaks out in a huge grin. 

There’s no way I can say no. 

“Come on, Saigey,” I say. “You wanna go say hi?” 

“Jackson!” she shouts, unraveling from the car seat and tumbling out. “Jackson, I comed back!” 

“I see that!” he says, then squats with one arm outstretched to welcome them both as the other holds Kai. “My best girls are here!” 

They collide with him at the same time, a mess of arms around his neck as they drop sloppy kisses on his cheeks. He laughs and the light in his eyes lingers when he stands up to his full height and greets me. 

“Hey,” he says, softly like he’s testing the waters. 

“Hi,” I say. “Um, Saige just wanted to say hi, and-”

“I want you to meet Kai!” Harriet says, tugging on my wrist to move me closer to the baby and in turn, Jackson. “Mommy, doesn’t he look a lot like me?”

I make eye contact with the baby and the whole world stops. I can’t hear or feel a thing, though my daughter is still tugging on my arm. I’m not so much lost in him as lost in what could’ve been. 

It’s impossible to see this little boy on Jackson’s hip and not think of Samuel. As the thought crosses my mind, I feel the pressure of the moment he exited my body and came into the world. I remember the dimness of the room, the soft tenor of the minister’s voice. I remember how light he was, wrapped in that blanket, and I remember how his eyes never opened. 

“Hi there, Kai,” I say, reaching my hand out for a shake. 

He reaches back and grips my fingers, and tears clog my throat. He has a strong grip. Samuel did, too. 

I have to remind myself that this little boy is not my son, but he is Jackson’s. He’s not Samuel. I can’t grieve the idea of him as if he were. That’s unfair to everyone involved. 

“Daddy says he looks like me,” Harriet says, continuing even though I hadn’t answered her question.

“He does,” I manage to say, forcing a small smile. It’s the best I can do. 

I meet Jackson’s eyes and feel a bit of comfort by doing so. I’ve not allowed myself to miss him, but the feeling is impossible to ignore as he looks into my eyes while standing a foot away. His presence alone is calming enough to ground me when I’d been in danger of floating away from my own life.

“You alright, April?” he asks, low enough so the girls won’t hear. He lets Kai down, tells them to be careful, and studies my face. 

No matter how far we’ve pulled apart, Jackson has always felt like my husband, the father of my children - the whole ‘until death do us part’ thing really stuck with me. Looking at him now, we might as well still be married. 

I don’t know why the fact that he fathered another woman’s child is such a sticking point when a child who has no blood relation to either of us has become the love of my life. It’s hypocritical and immature. I need to get over myself.

“I’m fine,” I mutter. 

“Do you wanna come in?” he asks, gesturing towards the house. “Have a beer, maybe? The kids could play.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Saige cheers, catching wind of what Jackson said.

I glance from his face to the kids, who are all celebrating before I’ve even answered. I look back to him and see that he’s hopeful, thinking I’ll take him up on the offer. I can’t, though. I’m mentally exhausted and I want to be home preparing for what tomorrow will inevitably bring - strife and verbal abuse. I can’t spend it here tonight with him and a few beers. I’m scared of what might end up happening and I can’t lose my foundation.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “We just really gotta get home.” 

“What? But mommy!” Saige cries, collapsing on the grass in a heap. “I wanna stay!”

I lick my lips and feel Jackson’s eyes on me, apologetic for being the one to cause this scene. “I’m sorry, sweets, but we can’t,” I say. “Maybe another night.”

“Please, mommy, I wanna stay  _ tonight _ !” she wails, flat on her back. 

“I know. I’m a big meanie,” I say, rubbing my eyes before getting into the rigamarole of picking her up and getting her back in the car.

“Hey,” Jackson says, before any of that can happen. “She can stay here if she wants.” 

I furrow my eyebrows, surprised at the offer. “Oh, no,” I say. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“It’s fine,” he says. “I want to. It’ll be fun, we’ll have a sleepover. And didn’t you say you had plans for tomorrow, anyway?”

“Yeah,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “I do. But seriously, Jackson. Three kids is a lot; it’s too much.” 

“Nah,” he says. “I got it. You deserve a night to yourself.” 

“Alright,” I say, knowing he won’t give in. “Okay. Saigey.” She looks up as soon as I say her name. “You’re gonna spend the night here with Jackson and Harriet and Kai tonight. Does that sound good?” 

She lights up and for some stupid reason that makes me feel a little crestfallen. I manage a smile, though, and give my girls kisses before getting back in the car and heading home. 

I still order a pizza, I still put in a movie, but I treat myself to a glass of wine alongside it. I’m numb for most of the evening until the wineglass and pizza box are empty, the movie’s credits are rolling, and the tears start.

They start, and they don’t stop. I don’t bother with building up to shoulder-racking, hiccupping, violent sobs either, I launch right into them, doubled over on the armchair with my arms wrapped around my knees. 

I almost don’t hear my phone ringing because I’m in such a deep state of hysterics, but it somehow catches my attention before it stops. I sit up without bothering to wipe my eyes and see that it’s Jackson, so I try and compose myself before saying, “Hello?”

“April?” he says. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” I say, blinking hard as more tears leak out of my eyes. I inhale to try and stabilize myself, but the breath catches in my throat and makes me sound anything but fine. 

“Have you been crying?”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “What’s up?”

He pauses for a moment before saying, “Saige wants to come home. She’s upset and asking for you.” 

“Oh,” I say, already standing to collect the pizza box and wineglass. “Okay. I can be there in a few minutes. Tell her I’m on my way.” 

I put my shoes on after wiping down my face with a cold cloth, hoping to take down the swelling under my eyes by at least a little. I get in the car and find myself looking forward to having Saige at home. An empty house isn’t something I’m used to, and I don’t want to be used to it. If the Taylors win, which I refuse to believe they will, every weekend that Harriet is gone will feel like the house just did. I can’t handle that.

I pull into Jackson’s driveway where I’d been a few hours before and walk up the front path. I don’t need to knock before he appears in the doorway holding Saige, her body slung across his - she’s clearly asleep. “She passed out just after we got off the phone,” he says. “But I figured she’d like to wake up in her bed.” 

“Yeah,” I say, reaching for her. He gently transfers her small, soft body into my arms, and I plant a kiss on her head as soon as he does. “Thank you.” 

“Was worth a try,” he says, smiling a little. “They had fun before bedtime, at least.” He ruffles the back of her hair. “Just wasn’t the same without Mama.” I hug Saige a little closer, letting my eyes close while I breathe in the sweet scent of her hair. I don’t ever want to let her out of my sight again. “So, you said you had plans tomorrow,” Jackson says. “What do you have going on? The girls said something about court?” 

“Um, yeah,” I say. “I told them about it. I figured it was time.” He nods. “Saige has to take the stand next week,” I say. 

“Shit,” he hisses, eyebrows lowering. “Seriously? She’s three years old and they’re making her do that?” 

“I tried to do something about it,” I say, shaking my head. “Didn’t work. It’s my turn to be cross-examined tomorrow.” 

“Jesus,” he says, eyes roaming my face to try and judge how I’m feeling. “I’m sure it’ll go fine, though. Are you nervous?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t want to say anything wrong.” 

“You won’t,” he says, confident as usual. “They’d have to be stupid not to think you’re the best choice for her. She’s obsessed with you.” 

“The Taylors are intent on making it seem otherwise,” I murmur, eyes burning again. “They’ve been… they’ve been so awful.” 

“Fuck them,” he says. “You’re gonna get through this. You know that, right?” 

“Most days,” I admit, lips twitching. We spend a moment in silence, wondering what to say, before I split the moment in two. “I should get going,” I say. “She should get to bed and I have an early morning.” 

“Right,” he says. “Good luck tomorrow. You need anything, you call. Alright?” 

“Sure,” I say.

“April,” he says pointedly. “I mean that.” 

“Okay,” I say, nodding with a slight smile. “I will.”

…

I never thought a chair could be so intimidating.

As I approach the witness stand, every nerve ending in my body tells me to turn tail and run, to get out of that courtroom and away from all the eyes staring at me. That’s obviously not an option, though, so I do my best to steel myself as I sit down and take the oath. After I’m sworn in, I cross my legs and settle in, prepared for the barrage of questions. 

A few days ago, it had been painful to listen to the lies the Taylors spewed about me; how when Matthew and I were married, I refused to let them see ‘Ruby,’ and that I was the one who insisted on her name change because I wanted to erase Karen’s existence. It was all farce, every single word that came from their mouths. And all I could do was sit there, seethe, and wait for my turn.

“Miss Kepner,” the Taylors’ lawyer, Mr. Layanas, says. “Let’s start simple. What is your relation with Ruby Taylor?”

The only thought in my head is that I’m dying to get her name legally changed. After this is over, there won’t be a ‘Ruby Taylor’ anymore. On paper, she will be ‘Saige Kepner,’ if it’s the last thing I do.

“I’m her mother,” I state simply, making direct eye contact while folding my hands together. 

“How long have you been her mother, Miss Kepner?” Mr. Layanas says. “Clarify for the record, please.” 

“Almost her entire life,” I say. “I adopted Saige when she was almost six months old. You’ll find those documents in the physical evidence my attorney provided.” 

Cristina trained me for this. I won’t let myself be blindsided or boxed in; I won’t play the victim. I’ll be strong and confident. I will win custody of who is rightfully mine. 

“Very well,” he continues. “The name choice is interesting. Legally, her first name is Ruby, but you insist on calling her Saige. Why is that?” 

“Objection, your honor,” Cristina cuts in, standing. “Relevance.” 

The judge looks from Mr. Layanas to Cristina to me, then says, “I’ll allow it.” 

I take a breath and answer the question. “Contrary to what Mr. and Mrs. Taylor might think, calling Saige by that name was not my idea,” I say. “It was their son’s. ‘Ruby’ reminded him of his late wife and it upset him. She’d picked out that name and he had picked out her middle name, Saige. So, it stuck. She doesn’t respond to ‘Ruby’ and never has.” 

“Did Matthew Taylor have a lot of say over how you parented Ruby?” he asks, still using the wrong name. I have a feeling he’ll continue. 

“Objection!” Cristina says. “Immaterial.” 

“Sustained,” the judge says. “We’re here to focus on Miss Kepner, Mr. Layanas.” 

“Of course,” he says, walking closer. “Would you call Ruby well-cared for, Miss Kepner?”

“Of course I would.” 

“But in that same vein, she gets bumps and bruises like any other child, does she not?”

“She’s three, so yes.” 

“What about her broken arm a year ago?” he asks. “From the medical records, we’ve seen that her radius was badly fractured and she was in a plaster cast for six weeks. This is when she was two years old. Can you elaborate on that?” 

I squint, wondering why this is being brought up when it happened so long ago. “She was a toddler,” I say. “She fell down the stairs when the baby gate came open.” 

“Hmm,” he says. “Some would call that an unsafe living environment. Would you?” 

“Objection,” Cristina says, sounding fed-up. “Leading.” 

“Sustained.” 

“Let me redirect,” Mr. Layanas says. “Do you still live in the same house in which this accident happened?” 

“Yes,” I answer. 

“Would you deem it a safe place for Ruby to live and thrive?” he says. “Have any other incidents happened since that fall?” 

“No,” I say. “She’s happy and healthy in that house. Saige loves her home.” 

“If I’m not mistaken, Miss Kepner,” he continues. “You have another child with a different man. A five-year-old daughter, named Harriet? How would you say she and Ruby get along?”

“They’re very close,” I say. 

“And Harriet’s father,” he says. “Does he play a big role in her life?” 

“Yes, we share custody,” I say. 

“And are you two close?” he asks. 

“Objection,” Cristina says. 

The judge shakes her head and says, “I’ll allow it.” 

“Please, answer the question, Miss Kepner.” 

I clear my throat. “Somewhat, yes. We’re civil for Harriet’s sake.”

“Does Ruby ever spend time around him?”

“Rarely,” I say. “Once in a great while.”

“And how is their relationship?” 

“Good,” I say. “She loves Jackson.” 

“Now, Ruby goes to school, does she not?” he asks. 

I nod. “Yes, she’s in preschool at Arbor Heights.” 

“What made you choose that school for her, Miss Kepner?” 

All of a sudden, I can’t think of any good reason. I chose it because it was close to the house and Harriet already went there, and I always heard good things from the mothers in the neighborhood. None of that seems important now, though, and none of it seems to hold enough weight. 

“Um, her sister… Harriet already went there,” I say.

“So, you make decisions for Ruby depending on whether or not they benefit Harriet,” Mr. Layanas says. 

“Objection!” Cristina says. 

“Watch yourself, Mr. Layanas,” the judge says.

“I apologize,” he says, then redirects. “Miss Kepner, do you work?” 

My mouth goes dry. This is the part that I knew would come up and that I’ve been dreading. Suddenly, everything Cristina trained me how to say flies out the window and I’m left with a blank state, staring dumbly at the attorney. “I… I used to work for Cedar River Clinics,” I say. “With Matthew, we were-” 

“Answer the question, please, Miss Kepner,” he says. “Presently, are you working? Do you have a job?” 

I lick my lips and take a deep breath to say, “No.” 

He furrows his eyebrows. “So, how are you caring for two children without a steady income?” he says. “You understand that’s quite unusual, don’t you?”

“Yes, I…” I stammer. “Right now, Matthew’s life insurance money is helping with costs until something can be-” 

“Understood,” he says, but I’m not finished. 

“I’m looking to get my job back at Grey Sloan Memorial,” I say. “I was offered-” 

“That’ll be all, Miss Kepner,” he says, giving me a curt nod. “Thank you for your time.” 

…

The rest of the weekend passes in a haze, so on Sunday night when I find myself in Jackson’s driveway ready to pick up Harriet, I’m a little shocked I got Saige and me there in one piece.

“Jackson!” Saige says, seeing him walk out the front door with Harriet leading the charge. “Sissy!” 

I get out much slower, dragging my feet to the front porch where the girls are hugging and Jackson stands with Kai facing out, leaned back against his chest. “Hey, April,” he says, noticing my demeanor instantly. “You okay?” I blink slowly, meeting his eyes with strain. He looks concerned and corrals the girls, ushering them inside. “Hey, Thing 1, Thing 2,” he says. “Why don’t you go play in Hattie’s room while me and Mommy talk for a bit?” 

“Yay!” they say, and scurry down the hallway to leave Jackson, Kai and me alone in the kitchen. 

He hovers around the counter and I sit down on a barstool, elbows resting on the granite with my head heavy in my hands. “You want a drink?” he says, but I don’t respond. “How about some coffee?” 

“Sure,” I say. “Black.”

“I know,” he says, the chuckles to himself before turning to me wearing a bit of an awkward expression. “Would you mind, uh, holding this big guy while I get the pot going?”

I snap out of my zone and realize what he’s asking of me. His eyes are a little worried, he’s clearly not sure how I’ll react. But when I look to Kai and his big, brown eyes, there’s no way I can say no. It would be petty and childish to say no. “Of course,” I say, smiling without teeth. “Hey, buddy.” 

He plops onto my lap and sucks his thumb, keeping his eyes on Jackson as he moves around the kitchen. We don’t say anything, but I hold Kai close. The feeling of his soft little body against mine is more comforting than I imagined it could be, so I find myself pulling him even nearer. Before I know it, I’ve turned him around so his head rests on my collarbones, and he puts his hand in the same spot Harriet always used to put hers, right in the middle of my sternum. I practically melt; I have to close my eyes for a moment to compose myself. 

“He likes you,” Jackson says, coming over with two mugs. 

This time, I don’t refute the sentiment. Instead, I just flash him a grateful look and rub Kai’s back, feeling soothed by his presence.

“He’s a sweet boy,” I whisper after some time has passed.

“He is,” Jackson agrees. “We’ve been getting to know each other a lot better. Hattie really brings out the best in him.”

“She has that effect,” I murmur. 

Jackson meets my eyes with plenty of feeling in his. “I am sorry, you know,” he says earnestly.

I don’t need to ask what he’s apologizing for because I already know. It’s everything. It’s too much to encompass in words because the explanation would go on forever. How things broke between us, how the fix was temporary, how we always seem to hit one bump after the other. I don’t want him to apologize, though. I made just as many mistakes.

“You don’t have to say that, Jackson,” I tell him, pressing my nose to Kai’s temple. He smells like Harriet. 

“I want to, though,” he says. “I’m not sorry he exists, but…. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry.” 

“I shouldn’t have made you feel guilty,” I say. “You and I weren’t together. I was hung up on you fathering someone else’s child because…” I sigh. “I don’t know. You’ve always felt like mine and it was a reminder that that wasn’t always the case.” 

He smiles in acknowledgment. “I know what you mean,” he says. “You think I didn’t feel the same way when you married Matthew in front of me?”

My heart falters. “I know I hurt you,” I say, laying the words flat for the first time. He nods. “I’m sorry, too, Jackson,” I say, then start to cry. I don’t cry just because of everything lain between us, but for everything that’s currently in turmoil, everything that’s viable to change in the next few weeks. I cry for everything out of my control, past, present, and future. I cry because things aren’t the same as they used to be and I don’t know if I’ll ever be as happy as I once was. Nothing comes easily anymore and I don’t know if it ever will again.

“Hey,” he says, framing my face with one hand. “Dolly, hey.” I look up at him, sniffling. “We did a lot of things wrong,” he says, and I nod while continuing to cry. “But we can fix it, if you want to.” 

I nod shakily. I do want to. I want that more than anything else. “Yeah,” I say, chin quivering.

“So, we do it together,” he says. “And we don’t run.” I shake my head and he thumbs away my tears. “You’re gonna win this case, baby.” 

I let my head fall as my shoulders rattle with sobs, hiccuping, “It doesn’t really feel like it.” 

“You will,” he says. “I have faith in that, and I don’t have faith in much.” 

I smile, allowing it to reach my eyes. He continues to stroke my face as he leans forward and presses his lips to mine in a soft kiss. I close my eyes and melt against him, giving myself over like I always used to. Everything will be new again. I’ve always been at my clearest with my best friend at my side. 

He was correct when he said that we’ve done a lot of things wrong. But this moment, the one where I have the love of my life’s hands on me and a new baby between us, is the first thing in a while that’s felt right.


	10. Chapter 10

**JACKSON**

As I’m kissing April, our lips molding together like something that could never change, I lean forward to cup her jaw in my hands - I can’t help it. I run my thumbs over her cheeks, feel her smile against my mouth, and I return the gesture. Jesus, I missed touching her. 

When we pull away, there’s a soft sound that follows of our lips separating. Her eyes stay closed for a millisecond longer than mine and I hope she’s doing what I think she is - soaking up how that felt. Kai hiccups during the small, quiet moment, and April giggles softly while keeping a hand wrapped around his stomach. We don’t speak and I keep my eyes on her lips. She licks them subtly and leans in by a few centimeters, which lets me know that we want the same thing.

Now, I can’t stop kissing her. Not heated, passionate kisses - those would be wildly inappropriate for Kai to be privy to, sitting right in the middle of us. But instead, I keep pressing my lips to hers repeatedly, close-mouthed and sweet. I cradle her face in my hands and share her smile, then she uses her free hand to caress the side of my neck as we pull away.

Her eyes are shimmering, tears welled up on the waterline. I kiss her once more for emphasis, to tell her all that I’m feeling, and hope she understands. “Tell me everything,” I say.

“Everything?” she says, her voice wavering from the onset of tears. “That’s a lot.” 

I smirk a bit. "Start at the beginning then,” I say. 

“Well…” she says, and by the glint in her eye I can tell she’s about to pull something funny. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” 

“Alright, Joel Osteen,” I say, pressing close again to touch her nose with mine. My heart feels like it might explode and burst through my chest; I can’t help the way I get around her. She’s always been able to do this to me. Turn me into mush, a lovesick idiot. I’d apologize for it if I were in any way sorry. “You know what I mean.” 

“Alright, then,” she says. “The Big Bang. Gotta throw in some electromagnetism and nuclear force.”

“You’re sexy when you talk like Neil deGrasse Tyson,” I murmur, lips moving against her cheek. She giggles and I pull away. “No, really,” I say. “I wanna hear what’s going on with the trial. What happened when you were cross-examined?”

Something in her eyes dampens and she looks away, stroking Kai’s hair absentmindedly. He has soft, abundant black curls that are starting to come in thick. I’ve been making sure they look nice and well taken care of. “It didn’t go the way I wanted it to,” she says. 

“Does it ever?” I ask. 

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve been in court before.” 

“But you’ve seen  _ Kramer vs Kramer _ ,” I say. “ _ I Am Sam _ . Shit,  _ The Exorcism of Emily Rose _ . Those movies prove that lawyers are capable of twisting your words in any way they want.” 

“Well, those are just movies,” she murmurs, twisting a curl around her pointer finger. “And I never saw  _ The Exorcism of Emily Rose _ . I made you watch it alone.” 

“Oh, yeah. But still.” 

“I’m not like those people in the movies, Jackson, there’s no happy ending guaranteed for me. I’m still terrified they’ll win and take her away. I can’t only see my baby once a month. She’ll forget me and it’ll be like I never had her at all.” 

“That’s not gonna happen,” I assure her, because I truly believe that it won’t. “You legally adopted her. They can’t just snatch her.” 

“Well, they’re trying,” she says, sniffling. “They brought up her broken arm from a year ago, that time when she fell down the stairs.” 

“I remember that,” I say, cutting in. “I mostly remember how pissed Matthew was. When you guys came into the ER that night and you found me. Well, I heard you were there and I guess I kinda found you.” 

“He was pissed?” she asks, genuinely confused. 

I squint, in disbelief that she doesn’t remember. He was beyond angry, pointing fingers in circles at who was to blame. Of course, the weight ended up on April’s shoulders and she bore it without blinking an eye. She took the fall and admitted that she was the one who left the baby gate open; I was able to hear their fight from where I stood in the OR hallway. He had screamed at her for her mistake. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem upset over the fact that Saige had been hurt. He seemed more upset that their routine was disrupted and they were spending time and money at the hospital. He seemed angry over the fact that April had slipped up rather than over the product of the mistake.

“Yeah,” I say. “He shouted at you in the waiting room.” 

Her eyes go wide as she says, “I don’t remember.” She pauses for a moment to think it over. “That’s weird. I wonder why he was so mad at me when he was the one who left the gate open in the first place.” 

“Wait,” I say, stopping her. “It was him? He said that it was you. And you agreed.”

She shrugs again. “With him, I learned that the fight wasn’t usually worth it,” she says. “The fact was that Saige got hurt and she needed to be fixed. It didn’t matter who left the gate open. Even though he did, I could’ve easily shut it. She still fell. It couldn’t be changed at that point.” 

“Did you tell the judge that?” I ask. She shakes her head and I continue with, “Why not?”

“What good would it do to point fingers at the dead?” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Like I said, it happened. And even though it was a year ago and Saige doesn’t remember, it still painted me in a bad light.” 

“So, every parent whose kid breaks their arm is incompetent?” I say, an edge to my voice. “That makes no sense. Kids are kids. They fall and break shit. That’s how being a kid works.” 

“Yeah, I know that,” she says, sounding exasperated. “I just have to hope the judge knows it, too. Paired with how the Taylors dragged my name through the mud and told the judge how Matthew never agreed with my parenting style of  _ his _ child, they said it was  _ my _ idea to change her name and that he never consented. They told the judge that he said I put it into existence and refused to call her Ruby.” 

“But that’s not true,” I say.

“Yeah, I know. It was Matthew’s idea and I told the judge that today. I just don’t know if he heard me. I don’t know. I don’t feel very confident because of course, the Taylors’ lawyer asked about my state of employment and I couldn’t lie. I had to tell him that I’m not working right now. And if that’s not bad enough on its own, I also had to say that I’m depending on the money from Matthew’s life insurance policy to keep us going until I’m working again.” 

“What’s so wrong with that?” I ask. 

She shrugs and shakes her head a bit. “It makes it sound like I’m taking advantage of the situation. If you look at it in the way they’re looking at it.”

“But isn’t that what it’s meant for?” I ask. “When someone dies, it’s insurance for the people they left behind. If they shame you for using it as such, they’re more cracked out than I thought. That’s bias, plain and simple.” 

“I never said they were smart,” she quips. 

“Did you tell them you’re getting your job back at Grey Sloan?” I continue. “I brought it up with Bailey yesterday and she said she’s waiting to hear from you. It just depends on when you’re ready.” 

“I should get that in order,” April mumbles, eyes veering off as she thinks. 

“The sooner the better,” I say. “Then, they won’t have anything on you.” 

“I’m sure they’d still find something,” she says, sighing softly. “They just keep kicking me and kicking me, Jackson.” 

“I know,” I say. “They want to wear you down. But you’re not gonna let them.” 

She shakes her head again. I know April better than anyone else, which means I’m very familiar with the fight inside her. Even when she’s tired, she doesn’t stop. She’ll fight to the death if it’s something she’s passionate about; at the very least, she’ll fight until the other person gives up. That’s why I don’t have a doubt in the world that Saige will stay right where she is, living the life she loves. “I know,” she murmurs.

“Mama!” we hear, interrupting the pensive moment as footsteps come careening down the hallway. “Mama, dinnertime?” Saige asks. She and Harriet stand in front of us with expectant eyes, and Saige plants her hands on April’s thigh. “You got a baby,” she says, eyes on Kai. 

“I do,” April says. “What do you think of Kai, beanie?”

“He’s cute,” Saige says, then laughs and presses her chin to her chest in an adorable way that makes her cheeks squish. “Hattie’s brother.”

“Yes, he is,” April says, and I watch her face intently to catch any minute expression in her eyes. 

“My brother, too?” Saige asks, standing on her tiptoes to get closer to April. 

April takes a deep breath and answers simply with, “No. No, not Saigey’s brother. Just Harriet’s.” 

Saige frowns and Harriet stays quiet, watching the interaction unfold just as I am. When we meet eyes, she crawls into my lap and rests against my chest, temple against the side of my chin. 

“Why?” Saige asks. “I want my brother, too.” 

“Because Kai is Jackson’s baby,” April explains. “Jackson is his daddy just like he’s Harriet’s daddy, right? And who’s Saigey’s daddy?” 

Saige blinks for a moment before clapping her hands down on April’s thigh with a big smile. “Mommy.” She smiles even wider, reaching up to April’s shoulders. “Mommy my daddy. Mommy kiss?” 

“A kiss, alright,” April says, and there’s lightness in her eyes as she presses her lips to Saige’s cheek. “We should get going, stinkers.”

“No…” Harriet whines. 

I clear my throat and say, “Why don’t I make dinner?” I meet April’s eyes over Kai’s head. “It’d be awesome if you could stay.”

She smirks a bit. “What are you making?” 

I answer in the way I know she wants me to. “Whatever you want.”

…

Lately during dinner, my food usually goes cold because it’s a battle to get Kai to eat in a timely manner. He’s more content painting his high chair tray with whatever I put in front of him, and I spend most of the time spooning the leftovers into his mouth.

But tonight, after I’ve laid out mashed potatoes and roasted chicken, April scoots next to Kai and shakes her head when I start our usual routine. “I’ll feed him,” she says. “You go ahead.” 

“You sure?” I ask. “You don’t have to. I didn’t invite you to eat with us to trick you into feeding this picky guy.” 

“I know,” she says, smiling softly. “But I know my way around a picky baby. Am I right, lovey?” 

Harriet bursts out laughing, head thrown back and everything. “Saigey is the pickiest eater  _ ever _ , daddy!” she exclaims. “Mommy used to trick her in a thousand ways every night. Remember airplane spoon? Try that, mommy! Try that with Kai-Kai.” 

“As if I haven’t tried the old airplane spoon trick,” I say, but I know it’ll be different when April does it. She always adds a certain something to whatever she puts her hands on. 

“Here comes the airplane, Mr. Kai…” she says, zooming the spoon in loopy circles as it gets nearer to his mouth. “Are you ready for landing?” With his eyes centered on it, he reaches his arms out with fingers spread wide and opens his mouth to accept the spoon. April dips it between his lips and exclaims, “Yummy, yummy!” 

“Baby whisperer,” I murmur, smiling as I eat a spoonful of my own potatoes. “Totally unfair.”

“Mommy did it!” Saige cheers, clapping her hands as Harriet joins in. 

“Mommy wins, Mommy wins!” Harriet announces, making sure she’s louder than everyone else. 

I meet April’s eyes across the table after taking in how normal this scene feels, how routine. I know for a fact, without even thinking, that I could get used to this. This melting pot of a family sitting around the same table, celebrating the same small accomplishment. Everything feels settled in place right now, in this moment. I don’t want anything to change. 

…

When it’s time for the kids to leave, Saige and Harriet run to collect a few things from Harriet’s room while April puts her shoes on. I linger near the door with Kai in my arms and watch her, badly wishing that I could invite her to spend the night. I could, but I won’t. Judging by how things flew off the rails last time, we need to take things slow and steady now. I don’t plan on making any rash moves, especially not while the trial is going on. 

“This was nice,” she says, twining her fingers together as she saunters towards me. “Thank you for dinner. Thank you for… everything. I had a really nice night, and I haven’t had one of those in a while.” 

“I missed having the gang all together,” I say, keeping my voice low as Kai is sleepy in my arms. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too,” she says, then runs her hands over my shaven head. Chills run through my body as she does; she’s always known how that drives me crazy. She holds one side of my neck and kisses me slow, letting her lips linger before pulling away. “Pretty soon, I wanna kiss you without this big baby in the way,” she whispers.

“Soon,” I say. “I promise.”

She smirks and lowers to press a kiss to Kai’s back over the soft material of his t-shirt. She closes her eyes and breathes him in, then lifts her gaze back up. “He still smells like a baby,” she tells me. 

“I know,” I say, feeling light because she noticed. 

“I remember the day I realized Hattie didn’t smell like that anymore,” she says, and I remember it, too. She called me crying and laughing simultaneously, because she knew how ridiculous she was being but couldn’t stop. “Mmm. I just wanna eat him up.”

“Daddy’s getting jealous,” I say, then smile against her lips as I kiss her again, cupping her jaw as she rests one hand on my chest - as much that’s open, at least. When we break apart, I ask, “What time is court tomorrow?” 

Her eyebrows furrow a bit. “What do you mean?” she says. 

“I mean, what time is court?” I repeat. “I wanna be there.” 

“Oh, Jackson, no,” she says. “You don’t have to do that. It’s gonna be awful and stressful and-” 

“And that’s why I wanna be there,” I say, solidifying my statement. “April, we’re gonna do it right this time. And that means I’m by your side through everything. As long as you want me there, I’m gonna be there.” 

Her eyes shine when she says, “It starts at noon.” 

…

The next day, I only have one surgery scheduled - a nerve reconstruction with Callie and no one else, which I’m incredibly grateful for. My mind is in too many places for there to be any other people in this room besides myself, Callie, the anaesthesiologist and Bokhee. 

“You’re quiet today, Avery,” Callie mutters without looking up.

“Yeah.” 

“Something on your mind?” 

I raise my eyebrows and continue the movement of my hand with the scalpel. “You could say as much.”

“Let’s talk.” 

I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good.” 

“It wasn’t a question,” she says, brown eyes on me. “I’m bored to tears doing this surgery I’ve done ten thousand times, and I need your drama to spice up my afternoon. Don’t make me beg.” 

I snort. “There’s really not that much to talk about.” 

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard,” she says, and I can hear the eye-roll. “When it involves you and Kepner, there’s no such thing as ‘not that much.’” 

I look up instantly. “I didn’t say there was anything between me and April.” 

“You didn’t need to,” she says smoothly. “You get a certain way about you when it’s drama that involves her. I can’t explain it, it’s just something I know. So spill, since I already seem to know the half of it.” 

I sigh, giving in as I continue my careful sutures. “We’re trying again,” I say.

“What is this, round 400?” Callie barks, laughing. It’s not mean-spirited, but it does strike a chord. The tumultuousness of mine and April’s relationship is common knowledge and I don’t like the way that feels. There’s plenty kept just between us, but I wish there was more. I guess it’s what we get for working in such a tight-knit place - together, at one point. Everyone knows everyone’s business here. 

“Why would I talk to you if all you’re gonna do is ridicule me?” I say, squinting as my eyebrows lower. 

“Avery, come on. I’m sorry. You have to admit, it was a little funny and pretty much true.” 

Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “We’ve done a lot of things wrong in the past and we’re aware of that,” I say. “But none of that is keeping us from each other. I know that sounds cheesy as hell and honestly, it is, but… I don’t know. I can’t stay away from her and I don’t want to.” 

“She pulls you in,” Callie says, voicing my thoughts. 

“Yeah, exactly,” I say. “She does. And there have been times where I haven’t been what she’s needed and times where she’s done me wrong but we wanna get over that. We wanna try and do something right for once.” 

“Well, take comfort in this,” Callie says. “You guys have done at least one thing right that I know of.” I raise my eyebrows to further her along. “Through all the mess, you’ve always prioritized the kids. Always. You and Kepner could be at each other’s throats and everyone would know, but the minute you two step into that daycare, it’s smiles and sunshine and rainbows. All of Kepner’s specialties. I think that’s really big of you both.” 

“I… thanks,” I say, blinking as her words settle in. “That means a lot. I know it would mean a lot to April, too. I’ll tell her you said that.”

“Tell her to get her little ass back to Grey Sloan so I can tell her myself,” she says, smiling behind the surgical mask. 

I laugh, too. “Will do,” I say. 

After the surgery is done and successful, Callie and I are scrubbing out together when I feel her eyes on me again. “That’s not all that’s on your mind, is it?” she asks. I sigh, and she already knows the answer. “What else?” 

“Remember the trial?” I ask. “The custody battle, between Matthew Taylor’s parents and April?” Callie nods. “Well, April was already called to the stand and it apparently didn’t go very well. Today, Saige - the little girl - is being questioned.”

“Seriously?” Callie says. “I didn’t think they did that kind of thing anymore.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Apparently, they do. April said the Taylors insisted so they could hear her thoughts in her words.” Tension creeps into my shoulders as my anger builds. “She’s fucking three years old and they’re doing this to her.” I scrub my hands extra hard, digging in with the rough sponge. “This kid is the sweetest thing and she loves April. I mean, obviously, she does. And not only are they trying to take her away, but they’re gonna traumatize her in the process.” 

Callie looks at me with deep sympathy before saying, “Tell me you’re gonna be there.” 

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m leaving after I finish up a few things here.” 

“No,” she says firmly. “Go. You go now.” 

…

I change into jeans and a dress shirt before heading out of the hospital, and pull up to the courthouse at around 11:45. I smooth out any wrinkles in my clothes as I stand, then jog up the front steps of the building to walk into the cavernous inside. I ask a clerk where to go and she directs me down a specific hallway, and almost immediately do I hear voices that I recognize.

“I just need you to be my big, bad, brave Saigey,” April says, and I see her kneeling on the ground in front of Saige so they’re at eye-level with each other. “I know it’s scary. Mommy was in that same chair last week, and it was very scary for me, too. But I’m gonna give you every single ounce of bravery that I can, and I want you to use all of it. Every single bit. Okay? Can I get an ‘okay’ from my baby?” 

“Okay, mama,” Saige peeps, then looks over April’s shoulder and makes eye contact with me. “Jackson!” she shouts, then runs at me full speed. I kneel before she reaches me so I can give her a real hug once she does. I close my eyes tight and wrap my arms around her small body, feeling how she trembles a bit from how hard she’s hugging me. “Mommy didn’t told me you were gonna be here, too,” she says, arms still around my neck. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I say. “Mommy gave you all her bravery, so I thought it would only be right if I gave you some of mine, too.”

“All of it?” she asks, pulling away to look at my face.

“Sure, you can have all of it,” I say. “But make sure to give it back before we walk outta here, otherwise I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep tonight.” 

She giggles and puts her hands on my cheeks. “You went gone your hairy beard,” she says, referencing how I’d shaved that morning. In reality, I did it for April. She likes me a little more shaven. But if it makes Saige happy too, then that’s just another win. 

“I did,” I say. “You’re right.”

“No more Santa beard, ho-ho-ho?” 

“Hey, I don’t think it was quite at Saint Nick’s level,” I say, pretending to scowl so she’ll laugh. I touch her cheek with my thumb and we spend a moment being quiet. “How’s everything been so far?” I ask. “How are you feeling about going in there?”

“Don’t want to,” she says, growing sullen again. I can’t blame her. “Cristina showed me in the courtroom and a big chair. I meeted a judge and I only look at Cristina, not Mommy. I can’t look at Mommy. Can I look at you?” 

“I think if Cristina told you that you should look at her, that’s what you should do,” I say. “I know you’re gonna be awesome up there.”

“No fibs,” she says, shaking her head firmly. “Can’t tell a fib.” 

“Right,” I say. “That’s very good.” 

The sound of high heels on the linoleum rings through the space as April makes her way over in a sharp black pantsuit. I push any and all inappropriate thoughts out of my head and smile up at her from where I’m still knelt on the floor. “She sure is happy to see you,” April says, nodding towards Saige who now has her thumb in her mouth.

“Jackson comed, mommy,” Saige says, lips moving around her finger. 

“I see that,” April says. “I’m very happy he did. Are you?” Saige nods. “He makes me feel stronger,” she continues. “How about you?” 

The little girl smiles and says, “Yeah,” while looking at me right in the eyes. Jesus, she might melt me here on the spot. I don’t know what I did to get her to like me so much, but I plan on continuing. 

“We should go in now,” Cristina says from where she stands near the double doors.

“Alright,” April says, wiping her hands on her pant legs in a way that’s supposed to be subtle. “We gotta go. Ready or not, here we come. Right, beanie-boo?” 

“Mama,” Saige says, reaching her arms up for April. 

Without a fight, April lifts the little one onto her hip and looks at me. “Say bye-bye to Jackson,” she whispers, her face close to Saige’s. “We’ll see him after.”

“Bye-bye Jackson, I love you,” she murmurs, as routine as anything else. 

It takes all I have not to reach out and kiss her. If there’s anything purer on this planet, I don’t know it. And I see it in April’s eyes that she heard Saige’s sentiment, too. “Bye-bye, Saigey,” I say. “I’ll see you in a little bit. You’re gonna do awesome, rockstar.” 

“Rockstar  _ princess _ ,” she corrects, her head heavy on April’s shoulder.

“Ah, right,” I say. “My mistake. Well, rockstar princess, you’re gonna be awesome up there.” 

She smiles and April meets my eyes to mouth  _ thank you _ . I give her a nod in return and watch them head inside, lingering for only a moment before joining them. I sit in the middle where I’m sure Saige will be able to see me, then take a good look at my surroundings. I have a clear view of mostly everything - the back of April and Cristina’s heads, the judge, the witness stand, and the Taylors’ profiles. Just looking at them is enough to make me sick, but I can’t tear my eyes away. They’re sitting there staring ahead like two gargoyles waiting to strike. Their eyes burn into Saige as she - a three-year-old - gets sworn in and led to the chair that April sat in just days ago. She has never looked smaller; her feet don’t come near the ground and her eyes are huge and scared. All I want to do is run up there and scoop her into my arms and away from all this. But of course, I can’t do that. So, I stay in place and watch everything unfold.

Cristina goes up first. After her, the Taylors’ lawyer will have a chance to ask Saige questions. 

“Hi, Saige,” Cristina says, standing close to the chair. “It’s kinda scary being up here, right?” Saige nods. “Don’t worry,” Cristina says. “I get scared sometimes, too, when I’m being a lawyer. It’s completely normal. It’s normal to feel scared when a lot of eyes are on you. If it’s alright with you, I’m gonna ask you a few questions. It’s just you and me talking, so you don’t have to worry about any of these people behind me. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

“Good,” Cristina says. “Can you tell me how old you are, Saige?” 

“Three.” 

“And when’s your birthday?” 

“August 9th.”

“Do you know where you were born?” 

“Hospital where Mommy works before.” 

Cristina nods. “And when you say ‘Mommy,’ you mean April, right?” She points back towards April, who gives a little wave. 

Saige nods. “Mommy.”

“How long have you been living with your mommy?” Cristina asks. 

“All my whole life,” Saige says. 

“So, Mommy’s house is all you’ve ever known?”

“Yeah.” 

“Do you and Mommy have fun together?” Cristina asks.

Saige nods and a bit of a smile appears on her face. “Yes.” 

“What kind of fun things do you do with Mommy?” 

“She gets me and Sissy from school and we play,” Saige says. “At home, she cooks dinner and plays with us and lets us watch movies with treats.” 

“That sounds awesome,” Cristina says. “Anything else?” 

“She kisses my boo-boos,” Saige says, then holds up a knee. “This one I got when I falled on second recess. It hurted all day ‘til Mommy kissed it. Then it was better.” 

“She sounds like a pretty chief Mommy,” Cristina says, smiling at the little girl. “What do you like about her? What are some of your favorite things about your mommy?” 

“Her red hair,” Saige says, smiling. “Like a Crayon. Also, she sings songs in the car and the bath and tickles me. And she picks me up and rides me on her shoulders in Sissy’s soccer games.”

“How fun,” Cristina says. “Speaking of your sister, do you live with her?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“Do you have your own room?”

“Sissy and me share a bunk bed,” Saige says. “I get the bottom. Top when I’m six.” 

“I see,” Cristina says. “How about your school, do you like your school?” Saige nods. “Would you want to change schools for any reason?” Saige shakes her head vehemently no. “How about where you live?” she continues. “Do you like your house?” 

“I wanna stay in my house forever,” Saige says. “I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

“Very good, Saige,” Cristina says. “That’ll be all from me. You did a very, very good job. Now, another lawyer is gonna come up and ask you a few things. Is that alright with you?” The little girl nods, but as confidently as before. “I’ll still be right here,” Cristina assures her. “But you’re gonna have a conversation with him now.” 

My stomach toils as the Taylors’ lawyer approaches Saige on the witness stand. I don’t like seeing him in such close proximity - there’s something not right with the image. “Hi there, Ruby,” he says. “My name is Mr. Layanas. I have a few questions that I need you to answer.” 

“You called me something else,” Saige says, tiny eyebrows furrowing. “My name is Saige.” 

“Well, for the purpose of the record and legality, we’re going to go with the name that’s on your birth certificate,” he says, speaking too quickly. “Your name is Ruby Saige Taylor, isn’t that right? So, we’re going to use ‘Ruby’ today.” She doesn’t have anything to say. She just sits there, stunned, chin quivering. In that moment, I know this asshole is going to make her cry. “Here’s my first question, Ruby. How big is the yard at your house? How much grass do you have?” 

“I don’t know,” she murmurs, blinking slowly. “A little part by the bench.” 

“Interesting,” he says. “Do you know how much grass your grandma and grandpa have at their house, Ruby? They have a whole field in that back that you could play in. They have room for a swingset, a jungle gym, a sandbox… anything you could think of. Do you think all that would fit in the yard at your house at home?” 

She thinks for a moment before answering, “No.” 

“A spunky kid like you probably loves playing outside,” he says. “At Grandma and Grandpa’s, you wouldn’t even have to go to a park. Just open the back door, and there you go.” She stays silent. “How about your school, Ruby? What’s your school called?”

“Arbor Heights,” she says, obviously trained in that answer. 

“And what grade are you in?” 

“Zero grade,” she says. “I go to preschool.” 

“The quality of a school matters, Ruby,” he says. “And these schools where you live, eh, they’re just okay. They’re just halfway good. But schools in Tacoma, where Grandma and Grandpa live, well those schools are fantastic. What would you think about going to a better school? One that could make you smarter?” 

“Objection,” Cristina shouts, and I’m glad for it. 

“Sustained,” the judge says. “Mr. Layanas, leading.”

“Excuse me,” he says, then looks to Saige. “How would you feel about changing schools?” he asks.

“No,” Saige says.

“Even if the school was better than the one you’re going to now?”

“No.” 

“No what, Ruby?” he presses. “You’ll have to explain yourself a little better.”

“No!” she shouts, growing red in the face just like April does. “No, I don’t want to!”

He pauses for effect. “Where did you learn to yell like that, Ruby? Does your mommy ever yell at you?” 

“I don’t like you,” Saige says, beginning to crumple. 

“Kids learn from what their parents teach them,” Mr. Layanas says. “So, unless you can tell me that your mommy doesn’t yell at you like you just yelled at me, I’ll have to believe that she does.”

Saige sniffles and wipes her nose, retreating into herself by pulling her knees up on the chair. She tries to shield her body from Mr. Layanas, but it doesn’t quite work. “Go away,” she says, pinching the material of her tights. “I don’t wanna talk anymore. I wanna get down. I wanna get down now!"

“Your honor, please,” Cristina says, standing. “He’s clearly upsetting the child on purpose.”

“I’m not finished, your honor,” Mr. Layanas says. 

The judge pauses for a short moment. “Make it quick, Mr. Layanas,” she says. 

“Would you be open to spending time with your grandparents?” he asks. “Visiting them for long periods of time?” 

“No,” Saige answers simply.

“No?” he echoes. “Ruby, did your mom tell you to say that?”

She sniffles again as her voice rises in pitch. “I don’t know.” 

“Ruby, I need a few more answers here. How much time does your mom spend with you?” he says. 

“All the time,” Saige peeps. 

“How about before your dad died?” he says, laying it out there without padding the statement at all. I could kill him. “When she was working, how about then?” 

“Lots.” 

“Mommy wants to get a new job at a big, shiny hospital,” Mr. Layanas says. “She’ll be working a lot of hours, sometimes even in the nighttime. What do you think about that? How much time do you think she’ll spend with you then?” 

“I don’t know,” Saige whimpers. “I want my mommy. I want my mommy now.” 

“Mr. Layanas, enough,” the judge says. “Honey, you can step down.” 

Saige does as she’s told. She bolts out of the chair and heads straight for April, launching herself into her mother’s arms. By the posture of April’s shoulders, I can tell that Saige isn’t the only one crying. Saige sobs into April’s neck and April does her best to comfort her, but it doesn’t do much good. By the time court is dismissed, Saige is still in shambles as April carries her out of the room. 

I can feel the Taylors’ eyes on us as I meet up with them in the hall, but the last thing I expected them to do was come over and say something. So, when I hear a nasally, persistent voice over my shoulder, my first reaction is confusion before I turn around to see a white-haired woman with a scowl on her face. “Honest to God, I can’t believe you had the audacity to show up,” Marianne Taylor says, staring me right in the eyes. “The one who ruined the wedding. Now what, here to sweep her off her feet again?”

Her voice is risen, but I refuse to do the same. “I’m here to support my family,” I say, calm and even. 

“Your family!” she guffaws. “You have no rights to that child. You have about as many rights as April does.” 

“So, plenty,” I say. “A legal document exists that states that Saige is April’s daughter. You must be a special brand of stupid to stand here and refute that.” 

“I have plenty to refute!” she argues, getting heated. “That child has my blood, my son’s blood. She doesn’t belong to your whore and she surely doesn’t belong to you.” 

“Hey,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. Saige is who she is today because of April.”

“You don’t know a thing about Ruby,” Marianne hisses. 

“I know she sucks her thumb,” I say. “I know she likes parmesan on her noodles, but no olive oil. She only likes green apples, not red. She loves anything sour. Taylor Swift is her jam, but not country Taylor Swift. Only the newest CD. She’s pretty good with spelling but mixes up her B’s and D’s. At night, she sleeps with a stuffed animal dog named Baby. She loves wearing all of her big sister’s hand-me-downs but likes her dresses the most. She takes ballet on Saturdays, gymnastics on Tuesdays. She can do a somersault but not a cartwheel, at least not yet. Her show-and-tell this week was a rock she found in the driveway that sparkled in the sun.” I take a step away from them towards April who’s waiting with Cristina. “Don’t tell me I don’t know that child, because I do. And I love her. You will not win this.”

When I turn around, I don’t look back. I walk out of the courthouse with April at my side, one hand on the small of her back as she holds her weeping daughter in her arms. 


	11. Chapter 11

**APRIL**

I barely recognize Saige as I hold her in my arms and descend the courthouse steps. I have one hand under her body and the other braced on the back of her head, keeping her close as she’s gone completely silent. Jackson is right by my side with his grip resting on the small of my back, reminding me where I am while keeping my feet on the ground. I don’t know what I would have done in there if it weren’t for his presence. 

I walk to my car, but as I try to pry Saige off to put her in the car seat, she clings with every ounce of strength she possesses, whimpering with defiance. I try and think of a way to reason with her, but nothing comes to mind. I spot a bench nearby and say to Jackson, “I think I should sit with her for a while.” 

“Of course,” he says, looking at me seriously. “Is there anything I can do?”

I nod. “Will you pick Harriet up?” I ask. “And bring her back to the house. I don’t see myself being able to do that today.” 

“You got it,” he says. 

“And Jackson,” I say. “Could you stay for a while tonight?” 

He falters for a second, opening his mouth as no sound comes. He eventually finds his voice, though, to say, “Kai. I have to…” 

“I assumed he’d come, too,” I say quietly, sitting on the bench as he stands. “I just… I need you, and Harriet will need you.” I glance at the side of Saige’s blonde head. “This one needs you, too.”

He nods solidly, blinking in a reassuring manner. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it,” he says. “I’ll go grab the kids and meet you back at your place then?” 

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” I say, then watch him head off in the direction of his car. After he pulls away, I direct my attention to Saige who’s resting on my lap with her head on my chest, one thumb in her mouth as she stares blankly ahead. She breathes shallowly, whimpering softly as her lips move around her finger, and I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to put into the universe that could make either of us feel better. As of right now, I’ve done all I can and it’s no longer up to me. “I love you, baby girl,” I whisper finally. 

She doesn’t respond, but she turns her face and hides in the fabric of my suit jacket. I pet her hair and rest my chin on the top of her head, taking a deep breath as my eyes close. I’m sodden with guilt over the pain I’ve caused her - even though I wasn’t the impetus, I still can’t help but feel I could’ve done something to intercept it. She should have never taken that stand. I’ve never felt such animosity as I feel towards the Taylors’ lawyer, and if I saw him right now I have no doubt that I’d cut everything loose and beat the living hell out of him. 

I want to tell Saige that everything will be okay, but I can’t say those words with complete conviction. I don’t know if we’ll be okay in the end - either of us. If she’s taken from me, I’ll never be the same. I’ll be a shell of a person, having let down my child. I know she’ll be changed forever, too. So, instead of spewing transparent words, I stay quiet and so does she.

After a while, though, I start to get cold and uncomfortable on the bench. Saige’s body has slackened with sleep, and as I stand up her limbs drape around me bonelessly. I carry her to the car and buckle her in the car seat as gently as I can, admiring her face as her head tips to one side and rests on her shoulder. I hold her leg and stroke her tights-covered knee with my thumb, throat clogging with emotion because of how much I love her and how much I can’t bear to lose her. 

When we get home, Saige wakes up as I’m taking her shoes off. She whines, reaches out, and winds her legs around my waist and arms around my neck. “I got you,” I say. “I’m right here. We’re home now.” She presses her face against the side of my neck again, hiding. I sit us both down on the couch and rub her back, humming something sweet under my breath that I hope will comfort her. We just sit in silence together until the front door comes open and makes Saige jump - to which I tell her, “It’s alright. Just Jackson and the kids.” 

“Saigey?” Harriet’s voice sounds instantly, lifting my spirits a bit. I had missed my big baby and having them both under my roof makes me a feel more centered. “Daddy, where’s Saigey at?” 

“Look around, babe. Mama’s car was in the garage, so they’ve gotta be here somewhere.” 

“Saigey?” Harriet calls again, coming around the corner and catching sight of us. She hurries forward, socks thumping against the hardwood, but comes to a dead stop before jumping onto the couch. “Mommy… what’s wrong?” she asks. I keep a flat hand on Saige’s back while I look at Harriet. I open my mouth to answer, but she gets there first. “Did the judge say she has to go away? Are they taking her, mommy?” Her eyebrows tilt in a worried expression, chin trembling. 

Saige clings tighter, fingertips digging into my shoulders as she pulls herself closer. “We don’t know yet, lovey,” I say. “But how about we try not to think about it? There’s not anything we can do to change the decision the judge makes. We’ve done all we can do. So, I think it would help if we just cleared our minds for right now.” It’s easier said than done, but I don’t think a barrage of questions would do Saige any good. 

“Okay,” Harriet says. “We won’t talk about it.” She crawls onto the couch and sets a hand in the middle of her sister’s back, keeping strong, worried eye contact with me. “Is she okay, mama?” she asks softly.

“She’ll be alright,” I say. “She might just need space.” 

“She wants you, mama,” Harriet says. “Will you make her feel better? I don’t want her to be sad.” 

“I’m gonna try,” I say. 

“It’s okay, Saigey,” Harriet says, leaning in to speak close to Saige’s ear. “It’s okay if you wanna cry or if you don’t wanna cry. It’s okay either way. And my daddy is here, too, with Kai-Kai. He can play Blob with us if I ask him to.” She looks back up at me. “Should I ask Daddy to play Blob?” 

“Maybe after dinner, if she’s feeling up to it,” I say. “How about we give her some time, alright?” 

Harriet nods and Jackson walks over with Kai on his hip, though the baby is wriggling to get down in the unfamiliar space. “Hey,” he says, and I notice his shoes are off. I’m happy he’s already made himself comfortable, because that means he’s staying. “Just tell me what you need.” 

“Maybe some help with dinner,” I say, standing up while trying to detach Saige’s grip from my neck. “I was thinking chicken with cauliflower tater tots - they love those. I can -” I cut myself off as I adjust Saige while walking. “Preheat the oven and cut up the-” 

“April,” Jackson says, one hand on my shoulder. “Sit down. I got it covered.” 

“Are you sure?” I ask. “You don’t have to do everything. I can figure out a way to help.” 

“She needs you,” he says. “Why don’t you just hang out with the kids and pop in a movie? I’m up for  _ Princess and the Frog _ for the 32nd time.” 

“I’ll get it!” Harriet shouts, racing towards the living room. “Come on, mama! Come sit by me and I’ll hold Kai-Kai on my lap. Daddy, you make dinner. And don’t burn it!” 

“Yes, miss bossy,” he says, shooting me a look. “Really,” he says. “It’s the least I can do.” 

“Alright,” I agree, and follow Harriet to the couch where she sits and pulls her brother onto her legs. He complies easily, entranced by the screen just as she is. Saige doesn’t so much as turn around, though, keeping her cheek on my shoulder and her face in my hair. I drag my fingernails up and down her back and I hope it does at least a little to comfort her. I don’t know what else there is to do. I’m at a loss - feeling sick over this whole ordeal, so I can’t imagine how she feels being the one that could potentially be taken away from everything she’s ever known.

When dinner is ready, Saige reluctantly sits on her own but barely eats a thing. Cauliflower tots are usually her favorite, but all she does is pick at them. Kai stuffs his face with glee, smushing the food onto his cheeks to make Harriet laugh. Jackson is amused, too, but is halfway distracted with the way Saige slumps in her chair and pushes around her dinner. 

We clean up together with Saige leaning against my legs, head on my hip. He washes the dishes and I rinse and dry while Harriet and Kai play a rambunctious, two-person version of duck-duck-goose. As I watch the two of them over the kitchen counter, my heart pangs with sadness of an entirely different kind. It’s hard not to imagine where we’d be right now if Samuel had lived. We probably wouldn’t be in this house, and mine and Jackson’s relationship would probably look much different. Harriet wouldn’t be running around with a younger brother - she might not exist at all. I know for a fact there wouldn’t be a blonde head at my side, heavy with the weight of the future. 

I don’t know what to think about all the ways our life could be different. I don’t like picturing a healthy boy, taller and older than Harriet, teaching a younger sibling how to do sibling things. I don’t like thinking about the nursery we decorated or all the things we had planned as new parents, I don’t like thinking about the ‘what-ifs.’ But it’s nearly impossible when there’s a happy, bronze-skinned boy in my living room running circles around his sister. 

“Hey,” Jackson says, snapping me out of it with a hand in the middle of my back. “You’re okay.” I turn to him wearing a watery smile and nod, but I know it’s not very convincing. I blink hard and two errant tears slip down my cheeks, but he swipes them away before they reach my jaw. He leans over and gives me a quick kiss, and I close my eyes as our lips touch. “You’re okay,” he reminds me again. 

“I am,” I whisper, trying to believe it myself. I will be. At least, I hope so. “Um, will you stay tonight?” I ask him, furrowing my eyebrows. 

“Of course,” he says. “Anything you need.”

“I think we’d all like it if you stayed,” I murmur, nodding to solidify it. 

Later that night after all the kids are bathed and in pajamas, Saige has fallen asleep on my chest with her thumb hanging out of her mouth and her soft, bare legs hanging over mine as I sit on the bottom bunk. Jackson is reading a story in a soft voice but with plenty of feeling, and it has Kai and Harriet enraptured. Harriet had campaigned for Kai to sleep in her bed, but the top bunk was too much for me to imagine him falling out of, so they’ll sleep in Saige’s bed while she joins me in mine tonight. 

Once Jackson finishes the book, Kai is asleep wrapped in Harriet’s arms and her eyes are heavy. He closes the book and smiles at his daughter, and she looks at him with a curious expression. “Daddy, you stayin’ tonight?” 

He glances at me for the go-ahead, and I give it to him in the form of a small nod. “Yeah, I am,” he says. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah,” she says. “But why? Mommy said you weren’t gonna do that anymore.” 

I take that as my cue to speak. “I know we’re confusing to you, baby,” I say. “And first of all, I want to say I’m sorry for that. You weren’t supposed to get swept up in all this confusion, but you did. ‘Cause you came from us, and we tend to be kinda confusing people. Right?” She nods, and I smile and touch her soft cheek. “But me and Daddy are gonna try and do it right this time. We’re gonna spend most of our time with you together because we’re best friends, right? And that’s what we want. And I promise, I’m not gonna take it away again. It’s not gonna be like last time where everything was up and down and all around. It’s gonna be like you wanted - me, Daddy, you, Saigey, and Kai, all of us together.” 

With round, glistening eyes, Harriet looks to Saige’s slack form draped over me. “But maybe not Saigey, though,” she whimpers. 

I bite the inside of my lip to keep myself from crying, because she’s not wrong. But I can’t think like that. I can’t come to terms with the fact that there’s a possibility I won’t have my child every single day, or at all. “Well, we don’t know anything about that yet,” I say. “Remember what I said earlier? Try not to worry about it.” 

“I gotta worry about it, though,” she says. “I can’t stop just so easy. My head is thinking about it all the time.” 

I sigh, feeling my chest crack with emotion. I don’t have much to say to refute that, so I respond with, “Me, too.” 

“Don’t let them take her, mama,” Harriet says. “Please?” 

I force the best smile I can and kiss her forehead as she lays down. “Okay, baby,” I whisper, so my voice won’t crack. “I won’t. You go to sleep now, okay? We’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Both Mommy and Daddy?” she asks, tucking Kai in next to her. 

“Yep,” Jackson says, standing up as I do. I hoist Saige higher and keep one hand on her as the other strokes Harriet’s forehead. “Love you, baby.” 

“Love you, daddy. Love you, mommy.”

I walk carefully to my room and lay Saige down in the bed, feeling cold and strange without her weight on me for the first time all night. I rub my arms up and down as I stand in the middle of the room and stare at nothing, zoning out and getting lost in my thoughts. Jackson comes up to me before long, kissing my temple and asking, “Where are you?” 

“Right here,” I mutter, eyes still unfocused. “Just… I don’t know. Thinking.”

He smooths my hair back, gathering it into a ponytail at the base of my neck before moving it to one shoulder. “I know you are,” he says. “I’d know that pensive expression anywhere. I can practically hear your thoughts moving around.”

I chuckle, shoulders bouncing once. “Yeah,” I say, then blink to bring myself back. “Do you want to sleep in here with me tonight?” I look towards the bed where Saige lies right in the middle and smile to myself. “Well, sleep in here with  _ us _ , I guess, would be the question.” 

“Of course I do,” he says. “Are we going to bed right now?” 

I sigh and shake my head, saying, “I don’t think I could sleep if I tried.” I look at him, eyes searching his face. “Do you wanna go downstairs and have a glass of wine, or something?” As soon as I say it, I remember what happened the last time we had alcohol together after the kids went to bed. “That’s not code for anything, I promise,” I say quickly. 

He laughs. “I didn’t think it was. Yeah, let’s go.” 

Once we’re sitting on adjacent cushions with wine between us, the words should flow easier, but they don’t. My mind is jammed up, too full of information to begin sharing any of it. He knows all my worries anyway, and I think I’ll only feel worse if I talk about them. It might put them out into the universe and make them real, and that’s what I’m most afraid of. 

“Tomorrow, it’ll all be over,” I say, tracing the rim of the glass. “Whatever happens, it’ll be over.” He doesn’t respond; he doesn’t need to. I didn’t expect him to. It’s a strange thought - almost like I’m putting the final nail in Matthew’s coffin, the last patch of grass grown in over his grave. It strikes me that I haven’t even gone to visit the site since the funeral. What kind of wife does that make me - even more, what kind of person? Because of the rigamarole with his parents trying to take my baby, his death has slunk to the back of my mind and stayed there. “I can’t believe this happened,” I admit. 

“It is crazy,” Jackson says, agreeing as he takes a sip.

“When we were at the sink earlier,” I say, blinking against the harsh light of the kitchen. “I was thinking… what would our life look like if it didn’t look like this?” I glance over to find him watching me closely. “If one thing had changed, everything would be different.” I meet his eyes soberly. “If Samuel hadn’t been born sick, if he would’ve lived,” I say. “Where would we be right now?” 

With watery eyes, Jackson looks at his lap. He chews on the inside of his cheek and takes a while to lift his eyes - I can’t remember the last time we talked about our late son casually, if ever. It’s a wound that has never fully healed and one we covered with rudimentary bandages time and time again. His death was what pulled our thread and caused us to unravel. I didn’t let Jackson lean on me and we saw grief very differently. I wonder if he thinks about Samuel as much as I do - every day. Farm animals remind me of him, like the ones that decorated his wall. Rocking chairs remind me of the one Jackson build twice over for his nursery. Buddhas remind me of his nickname. The list goes on and on. Every time I see a little boy running on Harriet and Saige’s playground, I think about how Samuel may have never had that, but he would have had two parents who loved him beyond all means. 

But what would his existence have deprived us of? No dynamic Harriet, no sweet Saige, no joyful Kai. What kind of a price is that to pay? What kind of a choice is that to make? What happened already happened and there’s no way to take it back, so why do I keep trying? 

“I don’t know,” Jackson finally answers. “But this is where we are, and this is what we’re dealing with.”

His concise answers used to frustrate me. They used to make me think he didn’t have any emotions, or that he was so good at bottling them up that they would never see the light of day. I now know that isn’t true; by being so taciturn, he’s trying to keep me grounded. But I don’t want him to sacrifice what he’s feeling in order to keep me from spiraling. 

“Do you think about him?” I ask, realizing how badly my voice is shaking. 

He nods without hesitating, eyes closing for a beat. “I know that’s who comes to your mind first when you look at Kai,” he says, and I feel a blow to my gut. “I’ll be honest - it is for me, too. But I think that will go away. Not that… not that the thought of Sammy should go away. But Kai is his own person, a great person. He won’t ever fit into Sammy’s shoes and Sammy won’t ever fit into his. But yes,” he says. “I think about him every day. I did before Kai, too.” 

“Don’t you wonder about it?” I ask.

“Where we’d be?” he responds, and I nod. “Yeah. But we can’t have everything, April.”

“I know,” I say softly. “But what if, after tomorrow, my life never looks the same? What if I don’t get to come home to Saigey every day? If Matthew gave me anything, it was her. I love her so much. I don’t know what I’ll do without her.” 

“You pled a good case,” Jackson says. “And she did, too. The judge would have to be blind to award them everything they’ve asked for. He’s not just gonna hand her over to people she’s met twice, no matter how badly they want her. No matter what blood says. Legally, you’re her mother. And it’s more than that, too. You know it is.” 

“I know,” I say. “But when we found out we were pregnant the first time, we never thought it could get taken away. We were just happy. We didn’t think about everything that could go wrong. So now, I am. Now, my child’s welfare is being threatened for a second time. I don’t know if I can handle much more, Jackson.” 

He places a hand on my knee, steady and sure. “You have to,” he says. “And you will. You will keep going. Because that’s what you do.” 

“Maybe that’s what they’re thinking, too, though,” I whimper. 

“They don’t deserve her and you know it,” he says, setting his glass down. “Come here, dolly. Come here.” 

I set mine on the floor too and climb onto his lap much in the way Saige was in mine earlier. I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my cheek on his shoulder as he rocks me side to side, soothing me now without words. “You promise, whatever happens, you won’t leave?” I say, cheeks growing wet with tears. 

“I promise,” he says. “I’m right by your side through anything.” 

…

I can’t stop my hands from shaking as the judge enters the courtroom the next day. Cristina is beside me, my grounding force, and Jackson is in the hall with Saige and Kai. Harriet is in school, having sent her sister off with enough hugs and kisses to last a lifetime. 

“All rise,” the bailiff says, and we stand. I clasp my hands together and feel a bead of sweat trickle down between my shoulder blades to pool at the small of my back. The quality of the rest of my life depends on the next thirty seconds and the words that come out of the judge’s mouth. I have everything to lose. 

“The record will show the presence of the plaintiff, the defendant, and all counsel,” the judge says. “Here I have the verdict of the case Taylor vs Kepner. I’d like to split custody between both parties. The Taylors will be awarded every weekend with the child in question, while Miss Kepner will be allowed to remain with the child during weekdays. Transportation and timing should be agreed upon between both parties’ counsel. Thank you all for your time.”

The blood drains from my face as I watch the judge get up and leave the courtroom, the chair still spinning after he goes. My entire body goes cold and numb, and I can’t hear a single voice. I’m suddenly inside a bubble and everyone surrounding me is looking in, unable to touch me. Cristina is saying something near my face, but I don’t hear a word. I blink slowly, caught in time, and know in that moment that everything is wrong but I have no choice but to go along with the decision that was made. 

I didn’t think this would happen. I was scared of it happening and I was afraid to put confidence in the fact that it wouldn’t, but in the back of my mind I was sure I would win this. The Taylors wouldn’t attain any rights to Saige and we would continue our lives as normal, like nothing ever happened. But that’s not how this played out. I don’t know what the next step is, or how I should make my next move. I have to tell her. She’s in the hall. I have to tell her. 

Cristina leads me out of the room and I follow her in a haze. I can barely breathe; my throat feels like it’s closing, and my eyes burn with the onset of tears. I’ve lost any and all control I have in this situation, and now it’s completely theirs. 

When I step through the doors, Saige’s attention is on me instantly. It takes her less than a second to read my face before her blood-curdling scream pops the bubble I’d found myself in. Her face turns beet red and her voice reaches a decibel I had no idea it could. She flies off the bench she’d been sitting on with Jackson and bolts in the opposite direction, away from the crowd of people exiting the courtroom and away from me. 

Jackson gives me a look and quickly hands Kai over so he can run after Saige. It doesn’t take him long to reach her being that he’s a grown man, but she fights with everything she has as he brings her back to face the music. I almost wish she was faster or that he’d let her get away. I don’t know where she planned on going, but anywhere is better than here. I find myself wanting to run, too. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” she screams, clinging to Jackson like a spider monkey while making sure her face can’t be seen. She’s wailing at the top of her lungs, doing everything she can to avoid the Taylors who are only drawing closer. 

“Ruby,” Marianne says, but she can’t say another word before Saige’s voice drowns hers out. 

“No!” Saige shrieks, pressing herself tighter against Jackson as her fingers create ripples in his dress shirt. “No, don’t let them take me! Don’t let them take me, daddy!” 

My lips part in a silent gasp as I realize what she’s said, and I know everyone else heard it, too. Saige doesn’t seem to realize it, but she continues to sob and protest any and all involvement with her blood relatives. 

“Baby,” I say, knowing I have to do something to appease the situation. I feel like I should, anyway. “Baby, it’s not forever. It’s just weekends, it’s just-” 

“I don’t wanna go!” she cries. “Please, I be good! I won’t ever wet my bed or suck my thumb! I eat all my dinner, please! Please!” 

I open my mouth to say something else, but nothing comes. I have no words left, none for this argument anyway. I have no more fight in me. I look to Marianne and Don, who are standing a few feet away with unreadable expressions on their faces. I wait for them to make a move and eventually, they do. Don walks over without so much as looking Saige’s way, his eyes set and serious. “We won’t do it,” he says. “We’ll talk to the judge. If it upsets her this much, it’s clear where she belongs.” 

My body floods with too many emotions to name. First comes relief, of course, but plenty more follow. Anger and fury are the headliners, and if we weren’t in a government-run, legal building, I would’ve put my fist in an old man’s mouth. 

“You…” I say, glowering as I try to piece my thoughts together. It’s not easy, though, being that they’re all lit on fire. “You are a piece of shit.” 

“Excuse me?” he says, thoroughly surprised. Judging by the look on his face, he thought I would profusely thank him and kneel at his feet. That is surely not the case, though. 

“You’re pieces of shit, both of you!” I shout, not bothering to police the level to which my voice grows. “You put us through all of this - all of this mess - for what? For fucking what, to take it back? To say, just kidding - we don’t want her? After torturing her on the stand, making me look like a horrible parent, and slandering everything I’ve done for my family -  _ now _ you change your mind?” My jaw shakes, my lips clench, I have no control over my facial expressions. “You two are the most selfish people I’ve ever met in my life. You should be ashamed.” 

“April,” Jackson says, taking my upper arm. “Come on.” 

Don looks at me with placidity - an expression that unsettles me more than any form of anger could. But all I do is bare my teeth, ready to spew more. “Go to hell!” I shout, and Jackson’s fingers tighten. 

“April,” he says. “We need to leave now, or they’re going to change their minds.” 

“No, they won’t,” I say, and I’m sure of it. I don’t know if they’re as evil to put us through this process simply for sport, but I know that once Don put it out there, he won’t rescind. They won’t be taking my Saige, but we had to pay a hefty price for it. They made sure I felt the pain Matthew did when I left him the first time, and that I felt the pain they suffered when he died. I’ve felt it tenfold now, enough suffering for numerous lifetimes. 

“You got what you wanted,” I say, crying as Jackson takes my waist and leads me away. “You hurt me like I hurt you. Isn’t that what you wanted?!” 

“April, we need to go now,” Jackson says, and I turn back around. This is the last time I’ll ever see the Taylors and I’ve never been more thankful for something in my life. I have my daughter and they won’t be allowed a single piece of her. I have my other daughter, safe and in school. I have the man I love and his son - who, someday, will become my son.

Among all this, I have a broken heart, too. But broken hearts heal, and I have to believe that someday, mine will. 

> **TWO MONTHS LATER**

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this.” 

“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna pussy out on me, are you?”

“One, don’t say that word ever again. Ever. Two, have you ever known me to  _ chicken _ out for anything? No. So, that’s enough out of you, mister.” 

Jackson laughs, taking my hand as we walk inside the tattoo parlor. This is a place I’ve probably passed thousands of times on my way to and from work, but never gone inside. Then, yesterday as we both carpooled to Grey Sloan after dropping the girls off at school, the neon sign caught his eye and he suggested we get matching tattoos. He had the shop on the phone in a matter of minutes and an appointment set up before we pulled in the hospital parking lot.

We sit in chairs that are side-by-side, and he keeps smiling at me. I slap him on the arm and he holds it in mock-pain, cradling it close to his chest. “Why can’t I smile at my lover?” he asks. 

“Would you stop saying words that I hate?” I hiss. 

The artist comes over and sits between us on a stool, looking decently amused at our banter. “So, I saw on the books that you’re looking to get just a simple design today,” he says, elbows on his knees. 

“Careful of ol’ Red over there,” Jackson says. “Her pain tolerance is low and she’s got the mouth of a sailor.” 

“Shut up!” I exclaim, then look to the artist. “I do not have a low tolerance. It’s actually very high. I gave birth to our daughter via C-section with no anesthesia.” 

The man raises his eyebrows and looks to Jackson. “I don’t plan on fucking with her,” he says, which makes us all laugh. “So, what are we looking at?” 

I rest my head back on the chair and look at him. “Initials,” I say. “In block script, just simple and small. At least for me, right here.” I point to the inside of my wrist. “The letters S, H, S, and K.” 

“Easy enough,” he says. “It’ll only take me about ten minutes.” He looks to Jackson then. “Same for you, sir?” 

“Yeah,” he answers, then puffs out his chest proudly. He can’t resist saying it. “The letters - they’re for our kids. The initials, I mean. Samuel, Harriet, Saige, and Kai.”

“Full house,” he says jovially. “Must keep you busy.” 

“You have no idea,” I say, amused because he really doesn’t, and he doesn’t have to. It’s enough that we know. It’s a story that’s long and involved, but it’s our story and ours alone. 

When Jackson and I are both inked up with gauze covering my inner wrist and his bicep, we pay and walk out of the door hand-in-hand. “The first and last time I’ll ever be inside a tattoo parlor,” I say, laughing.

“Hey, you never know,” he says, tapping the bandage under which his tattoo lies. “When we have more, we’re gonna have to add their initials, too.” 

I widen my eyes and guffaw. “ _ When _ we have more?” I exclaim. “When?!” He laughs, nodding as he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in to jostle me playfully. “You better slow down or we’re gonna turn into  _ The Brady Bunch _ .”

“I prefer  _ Cheaper by the Dozen _ ,” he says. 

I snort and elbow him in the ribs, saying, “You would.” 

…

The kids are spending the night at Callie and Arizona’s tonight, so we have the house to ourselves. It’s rare that we do, and the silence is almost unnerving. Almost. 

We don’t bother with dinner. Instead, we go upstairs and leave the door and windows open, stripping naked to do something we haven’t had the time for since the time in the car months and months ago. I’ve missed him and he’s missed me - but if it wasn’t timing that was our downfall, it was tiredness or emotions or some other reason. Tonight, though, is different. Tonight is for us.

Both of us naked, he pushes me onto the bed and overlaps my body with his, finding all the right places as he always has. He skims my sides with his hands, dragging his fingers up over my hips and across the bumps of my ribs, straight across to land on my right breast. I moan against his mouth, having missed his touch, and smile breathlessly when he squeezes it with gusto. “I wanna tell you something,” he says, lips moving against mine. He smiles and our teeth click together, which makes me giggle. 

“What,” I say. 

“I love you,” he says. “And I’m gonna tell you every single day.”

“Sounds good,” I say, grabbing his head with both hands to bring his lips back to mine. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him down, making sure there’s no space at all between us. “We’re gonna do it right this time, aren’t we?” 

He nods, closing his eyes as I do and kissing me with passion. “Yeah,” he says. “Except this time, I’ll love you better.” 


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a super fun canon fix-it, somewhat AU ride of LYB!! Thanks everyone for sticking with me!

**APRIL**

“Mama, Kai-Kai bit me!” 

“No, I not! I not!” 

“Kai, remember what we talked about?” Jackson says, trying to be the mediator. “We keep our teeth and hands to ourselves.” 

“It hurt!” Harriet says, giving her brother a shove for good measure. Because of this, he tumbles off the low stool he’d been sitting on and she immediately looks remorseful. “Sorry!” she shrills. “I didn’t mean to do it that hard!” 

“Harriet Samantha,” I say, adjusting accordingly to look at her. I make steady eye contact and keep my voice low so she knows I mean business. “We do not hit or push. You know better.” 

“But he bit me!” she insists, holding up a finger that is, in fact, colored an angry red. “Mommy, see?” I look at Jackson, who’s now scooping Kai off the floor and giving him a stern talking-to. “Daddy’s taking care of Kai,” I tell her. “You worry about you. We don’t use violence. You know that. I want you to tell your brother that you’re sorry.”

“But he started it,” she argues. 

“Harriet," I say sternly. 

She turns in a half-circle to look towards Kai, who’s sucking his thumb in the way Saige sometimes still does. “Sorry, Kai-Kai,” she murmurs. 

Jackson nudges him and Kai takes his turn next. “Sorry, Attie.” 

“I don’t have to say sorry to anybody, ‘cause I’m a angel!” Saige announces, throwing her arms high in the air. “A angel, a angel!” 

“Mommy, bragging is bad and Saigey’s bragging,” Harriet says, still grumpy over the fact that she got scolded. 

“Everyone just calm down,” Jackson says, replacing Kai on his stool. “Just take a breath. Show me how we relax.” Following his cue, the three kids and I all take a deep inhale and let it out in one loud gust. “There we go,” he says. “Feel better? Let’s get these pictures taken already.” 

“Cheese, cheese!” Kai says, showing off his pearly white teeth in the direction of the camera. 

“I want a pink background,” Saige says, turning around and eyeing the stark white drop-sheet behind us. “White is no fun.” She turns to Jackson. “Daddy, how about we move to a pink one?” 

“I think not, beanie,” he says. “That would be cause for some serious clashing.” 

“I don’t care. It’s pretty.” 

“Pink is way better!” Harriet agrees. 

“No, no pink!” Kai pipes up. “Green! Blue.” He gasps. “Red!” 

“We are sticking with white!” I say, raising my voice so it overlaps everyone else’s. It’s a tactic I find myself using often - sometimes, there’s no other option in our house. “That’s the final answer. Mama says. So, everyone put on your happy faces, ‘cause we’re gonna take these pictures if it’s the last thing we do.” 

“I don’t want it to be the last thing, though.” 

“Saige.” 

“Okay then, Averys!” the photographer says. 

“Kepner!” Saige grouches, small fists planted on her hips as she stands up and scowls in the direction of the camera. “It’s  _ hibernated _ .” 

“We combine it,” I say, sounding tired. “Hyphenated, sometimes we say Kepner-Avery, even though it’s not official-” 

“Not yeee-eeet,” Harriet sings, and I give her a strange look. Jackson does, too, though I’m not sure why. 

“Okay…” the photographer says, sounding more unsure this time. “Alright… family! You all look great. You sure are a beautiful bunch of related folks.” 

“I’m ‘dopted!” Saige says, standing up yet again. It seems to be her personal mission to speak her mind today, and while I’m in support of the endeavor, her delivery is exhausting. 

“Me, too! Me, too!” Kai says, pushing his way up and using Jackson’s legs as a springboard. He looks to me and falls forward, banking on the fact that I’ll catch him as his arms wind around my neck. “My mommy.” 

“Yes, baby,” I say, patting his back. “And I love you so much. But please, go and sit down by your daddy.” 

“Are we getting on your nerves, mommy?” Harriet asks with a very Jackson-like smile on her face. 

“Yes, baby,” I say honestly. “Very much. Now, turn around and smile for the nice man.” 

“Okay, I want everyone to look into the big lens right here,” he says, tapping it. “And nobody blink! But don’t worry, just in case you do, we’ll take a lot of different pictures so you have a lot to choose from. Who’s ready?”

“Go, go!” Harriet says impatiently. 

“Hattie,” I scold softly, under my breath without moving my lips. 

“Aaaaaand-” 

Just as the shutter clicks, Jackson spins around and drops to one knee in front of me. With a fluid motion of his wrist, he pops open the lid of a velvet box and my jaw drops, only vaguely hearing the sound of the camera continuing to shoot. The little sneak planned this. The kids shriek with glee, obviously having been in on it, too, and I still can’t speak. 

“April Joy Kepner,” he says, eyes twinkling while his voice is smooth as silk. “Will you marry me?”

“Say yes, mommy!” Harriet urges. 

“I can’t see!” Saige complains, trying to maneuver around me. “Mommy’s big tummy is in the way!” 

I laugh and cry at the same time, one hand resting over my very pregnant belly. In less than a month, the twins will be here so our family (and our tattoos) will grow in size by two. “You couldn’t have waited until after Skylar and Amaya were born?” I ask, sniffling and teary. 

Jackson shakes his head, taking my hand to kiss the knuckles. “Nah,” he says, slipping the ring on. “I couldn’t go another day without being engaged to you.”

…

“I swear, those two will pull too hard and knock the babies right out of the wagon.”

“Catherine, calm down. They’ll do just fine.” 

“I just keep imagining them tumbling to the floor and bumping their precious little heads!” 

“If that happens, Jackson will go and get them.” 

“You’ve put a terrifying amount of faith in my son.” 

I laugh to myself, kneeling down to talk to my son, who’s about to lead the way down the aisle as ring bearer. “Remember,” I say, caressing the side of Kai’s face. “Walk to Daddy and hand him the ring pillow. Right?” 

“Right,” he says, flashing me a toothy grin while still unable to say his ‘R’ sounds.

“And don’t make any stops along the way,” I remind him, knowing how sociable and very easily distracted he can be. “Right?”

“Right.” 

“Mama’s good boy,” I say, holding his chin and drawing his face closer to kiss his forehead. “And you two,” I say, turning to face 6.5-year-old Harriet and 4.5-year-old Saige who are standing side-by-side and waiting for direction. “You pull this wagon very carefully, do you hear me?” 

“Yeah,” Saige says.

“Yes, mama,” Harriet says, ever dutiful under pressure.

“If you yank it, what will happen?” I ask. 

“The babies will fall out,” Harriet says. 

“Babies all fall down!” Saige shouts, laughing.

“Saigey, not funny,” I say. “Be very careful with the babies, just like you are at home. They’re still little, you know that.” Then, I crouch to cup my 6-month-old twins’ faces - Skylar and Amaya. “And you two just sit there and look cute,” I say. 

Catherine and I watch with bated breath as the crew make their way down the aisle towards Jackson. I watch him, too - I see his face light up when his kids come into view, and he adjusts his dress pants to kneel down to their level as they approach. His lips move as he talks to them, but there’s no way I can hear what he’s saying. Probably praising them, which they deserve. They did a good job - no one cried, froze with fear, or fell out of the wagon. So far, it’s been a successful day. 

Now, it’s my turn to walk down the aisle without crying, freezing with fear, or falling. My father takes my arm and gives me a warm look, and I begin the procession towards the rest of my life with my partner.

Jackson’s eyes are glassy, which I secretly hoped they would be. Mine are, too, of course. Lately, I’ve started crying just thinking about the day that would rejoin us - this time, for good. Nothing can separate us now. Five children and a fair amount of strife have acted as our glue, and there’s no breaking that bond now. It was never broken before, anyway. Just pulled apart, and now we’ve been soldered back together. 

The smile painted on my face is nearly painful, and as soon as I arrive at the altar, Jackson takes my hands. “Hi, mommy,” Kai says from behind his father, and I can’t help but giggle. 

“Hi, baby,” I say quietly. 

“Mommy, you look really pretty,” Harriet says, peering around me with two hands on my waist. I blush a bit, thank her, and turn back towards Jackson who’s wearing a bemused expression. This is our life with kids, and while we wouldn’t have it any other way, it’s typical that they would all have something to say during this sanctified moment. 

When it’s time to recite our vows, my stomach jumps with nerves. Jackson goes first, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, clearing his throat before reading, “April Joy,” he says, looking up briefly to meet my eyes. I smile to encourage him. “It’s a wild ride that we’ve been on. Wilder than anyone else in the world could handle. Honestly, I couldn’t have handled it had you not been by my side. There isn’t a single person stronger, smarter, kinder, more caring or more beautiful than you. I was lucky to call you my wife once. But now, I can barely wrap my head around the fact that I get to marry you twice. This time, I won’t mess it up. I promise to listen to you, to give you space, and to take care of you when you need it. I promise to love our children and teach them to be good people, and I promise to always honor your beliefs. I promise to let you take care of me when I’m sick and to not act like an old goat that’s gone off to die.” I can’t help but laugh at that. He takes my hands, squeezes them, and finishes with, “And most of all, I promise that the second time will be our last time. You’re my life, April, and our kids are my life. That’s never going to change. But this time around, I’m gonna love you better.” 

My lips twist at the words that have grown to be our catchphrase of sorts. Saying it started off completely genuine, but now it’s grown so habitual that I don’t think a day goes by where it’s not heard in our house. We joke with each other - competing who loves who better - and the fact that he tied up his vows with the phrase reminds me that humor is one of the firm bases of which we’re built. 

“Jackson,” I say, looking right into his eyes as I’ve memorized my vows. He smirks, shaking his head a bit, and I can practically hear his thoughts.  _ You always have to do me one better _ . “I believe in soulmates, and I believe you are mine. We’ve gone through hell together, and we’ve gone through hell to  _ be _ together. So this time, I know we’ll do it right. I love you because you’re a wonderful father to our babies, a wonderful partner to me, and a wonderful human being in general. You were by my side when no one else was. You’ve always seen me for who I am - you know my heart. Even when I wasn’t sure of myself, you were, and you always have been.” I stroke his knuckles with my thumbs, smiling softly as I do. “Being with you gives me strength, and I promise to give that strength back to you and our family. I will always respect you, listen to you, and be your shoulder when you need it. I won’t ever leave you. I will always communicate with you. No matter what, I’ll always be by your side. I’m with you through it all, and I take great pride in being your wife. And I will, for the rest of my life.” I smile again, inching closer. “And I’m gonna love  _ you _ better.” 

…

Later that night, Jackson and I are passing the gift table when he stops in his tracks and, being that he’s holding my elbow, makes me stop too. “Hey,” he says. “Look.” 

“What?” I say, turning. He holds up a card that seems as if it’s been mailed to arrive today, and the return address is in Tacoma under the surname: Taylor. “Oh,” I say, staring at the envelope before reaching for it. I take it in my hands, run my fingers over the sharp corners, and chew on my lip. 

It’s been a year and a half since everything happened. Saige underwent therapy for a while after it was over and has made leaps and bounds of progress. She wasn’t the only one to go, either. We’ve done our best to place mental health as a priority in our household so everyone can be their best selves, kids and parents alike. “You want me to toss it?” Jackson asks. 

“No,” I say, my eyes still on the paper. “I’ll ask Saige what she wants to do.” 

“Are you sure?” he says.

I nod and tuck it under my arm, weaving through the crowd to find my daughter. Catherine took Kai, Skylar and Amaya home, but the big girls got to stay and they’re currently on the dance floor, hair a mess and covered in sweat. I can’t help but smile when I see them, and I wait until the song is over to call out to Saige. “Beanie boo,” I say, and she flips her head around, long, blonde French braid flying behind her. “Come here for a sec.” 

She bounds over, taking long strides to reach me, and takes my hand as soon as she arrives. “What is it, mommy?” she says. 

“Let’s go someplace quiet,” I say, leading her away from the dance floor and closer to the groups of tables. I sit down and pull her onto my lap, realizing that Jackson left to give us a moment alone. “I wanna show you something,” I tell her. 

“A present!” 

“No,” I say, laughing.

“But you and Daddy got lotsa presents and I got none,” she says, pouting her lips. “No fair.” 

“Listen, baby,” I say, then pull out the card. “Marianne and Don mailed this to us, and I assume there are words for you inside.” We don’t call them her ‘grandparents’ anymore. Not after everything. She’s ours now - she’s a Kepner-Avery through and through. Not a Taylor. “What I wanna know is if you wanna know what it says. Because if you do, we’ll read it together. But if you don’t, that’s okay, too. We’ll throw it away. I won’t even look.” 

She leans against my chest, resting her head on my shoulder while still looking at the card in my hands. She reaches out and traces the loopy handwriting, swinging her legs as they hang over mine. I feel her breathing and tighten my arms around her, kissing her temple to let her know that I’m right here. “Don’t want it,” she says, lifting her head to look into my eyes. “I don’t want it.” 

“Alright,” I say, as simple as that. “Then we won’t look.” 

“You won’t, either?” she asks, and I shake my head. A beat passes, then she smiles. “Okay. Can I go back and shake my booty now?” 

“Of course you can,” I say and she hops off my lap. I pat her back as she heads off, calling after her, “Have fun, little mama!” 

Jackson saunters over a few minutes later, finding me in the same chair where I was sitting with Saige. He leans on the table, fingers wrapped around the edge, and looks at me with a curious and open expression. Instead of cutting right to the chase, I say, “You’re going to break that table, old man.” 

“Calling me fat and old in the same breath,” he says, sucking his teeth. “And here I was, thinking we were in the honeymoon stage.” 

“Oh, no,” I say. “That’s not a thing the second time around.” 

He rolls his eyes lightly, pulling me to my feet. He winds his arms around my waist and draws me in, touching the tip of my nose with his. “So, what did she say?” he asks, swaying our bodies. 

“She didn’t want it,” I state simply. 

“Oh,” he says, then nods. “I guess I’m not really surprised.”

“Me, neither,” I say. “But I’m glad. That means she’s on the same page that we are.”

He smiles and kisses me, and as I close my eyes, I feel nothing but happiness. The envelope from the Taylors didn’t invoke any negative feelings because I have everything in front of me, safe where I can see it. I have everything I thought I’d lose.

> **JACKSON**

“Go number 8! Go number 3!” 

From the dugout, Saige and Harriet look back at their mother who’s rooting for them from the bleachers. Not just April, but Kai, Skylar and Amaya, too. Kai is at her side while she holds a one-year-old twin on each knee, bouncing them as the girls’ softball game is about to start. 

“Coach Daddy,” Harriet says, scuffing through the red dirt as she makes her way over to me in cleats. “I don’t really wanna hit.” 

“No?” I say, adjusting her hat. April braided her hair to fit under it, and it’s doing a somewhat okay job. “Why’s that?” 

“‘Cause,” she says, opening her mouth to point to a very wiggly front tooth. “He’s gonna fall out if I get hit in my face.” 

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” I say, joking with her. “Since you won’t let me tie a string around it and slam the door shut.” 

“Dad!” she groans, pushing on my shoulders. “Can I go last? Can Saigey and all the other girls go before me? Please?” 

“Sure, lovey,” I say, then nod towards the bench where the rest of the players are. “Why don’t you go gather everyone up so we can do our pregame huddle?” 

As I take my team of 5-7 year old girls out of the dugout and towards the diamond, I give a little wave to April and our three munchkins with her. She waves back with a bright smile, raising the twins’ arms to wave, too. “Say ‘good luck’!” she says in that high voice, then turns to Kai. “See Daddy, honey?” 

Kai waves with a smile matching April’s. “Hi, daddy!” he shrills. 

“Hey, dude!” I call back. 

“Daddy, come on,” Saige says, yanking at my hand. 

“Yes, boss,” I say, giving a playful salute. 

“Daddy, I don’t have my special ribbons,” Harriet says, touching the ends of her braids. “I can’t play if I don’t have them. They’re my good luck! I can’t do anything without them!” 

“Babe, it’s fine,” I say. “You’ll survive one game without the ribbons.” 

“Where are they, daddy? I really need them. I had them just one second ago!” 

“Hattie, come on. They’re just ribbons. You got this on talent alone!” 

“I do not!” she says. “I need them.”

“Jackson!” I hear, then look behind me to see April waving me over. 

“Hold on, girls,” I say. “Be right back.” 

“That’s my mommy,” Saige says, letting everyone else know. 

I trot towards April to see that she’s now having a conversation with Alex in the two seconds it took for me to get here. “Don’t be crass,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“I’m just sayin’,” he continues. “Add any more to your ragtag bunch and you’ll make a baseball team of your own.”

She flips around, face turning red. “Alex Karev, you watch your mouth,” she says. “My children are not a ‘ragtag bunch’ and I won’t have you talking about them like that.” 

“Jesus,” he says. “It was a joke. Take a joke! Avery, tell your wife to take a joke.” 

“Hey,” I say, palms up. “I’m not involved in this.” I look at April. “Hattie’s saying something about ribbons. She won’t-” 

“Here,” April says, unclenching Amaya’s fist to reveal two long, silky, pink ribbons. “That’s why I called you over.”

“Ah,” I say, leaning in for a kiss. “Superwoman.” 

“Get a room,” Alex grumbles.

I pull away and both of the twins reach for me, April’s smile on their faces. “Dada,” Skylar says, wriggling against his mother’s grip. 

Amaya copies her brother and says, “Da!”

Of course, I can’t help but grin. “I love you both very much, but I have to go coach your big sisters’ game. You too, baby boy,” I say to Kai.

“I wanna play,” Kai says, standing. “I come play, too?” 

“In a couple years, slugger,” I say, tickling Kai’s belly so he giggles and gets distracted from being excluded. “Until then, you can cheer on your sisters with Mama.” 

I jog back over to the group of girls, tie Harriet’s ribbons into her hair, and get the game started. I stand behind home plate and make sure everything flows as it should while still being able to see April and the cheering section. Once in a while she’ll give me a smile while jiggling the twins, and Kai will shout my name just to wave his arms enthusiastically in the air. 

At breaktime, I look over to see that Kai has found a few other kids his age to play with and April is still on the bleachers with the babies. They’re each holding a small container of cereal, happily snacking, and April is smiling too until we both hear a familiar voice cut through the tranquility.

“ _ Mama _ !” 

April stands immediately, one twin on each hip, hurrying down the bleachers towards the source of the sound. I follow her, picking up the pace as I see Kai flat on his back in the grass, and get there just as April does. She kneels down, still holding the babies, and somehow pulls him to his feet. I have no idea how she does this stuff. “Baby, are you okay?” she asks, and I realize she’s teary. Her voice is waterlogged and her eyes are shiny as she looks into Kai’s face. 

“Hey, hey,” I say, one hand between her shoulder blades. “He’s alright. Look at him, he’s all good.” 

She lifts her face, snapping to look at me. “Let him answer,” she says, then wipes tears from her cheeks. She stands up to hand me both babies that I readily take before lowering to her knees again to give Kai a big hug. “I’m so sorry, buddy,” she says. 

“Mama, it’s okay,” he says. “Look. See? I’m okay.” 

She sniffles as she presses her face into his neck, and it takes me a second to realize why she’s so upset. Sometimes, April is hard to read - for others. But not for me. Not anymore. “He’s alright, dolly,” I say. 

“I wasn’t watching him!” she says, still on her knees while holding our son close. “I could’ve done something, but I wasn’t watching.” 

“He’s okay,” I say, slow and deliberate. “Not a scratch on him. It was just a fall and he got scared.” 

“I’m okay,” Kai says as if to remind her. 

April wipes her nose and lets him free, and immediately he goes to rejoin his friends. She stands up and takes Amaya, holding the baby close while rubbing her back and trying to regain composure. “Baby,” I say, catching her attention. “Kai isn’t Samuel.”

“I know that,” she says, but the red flush on her cheeks tells me that her gut reaction hadn’t known that.

“It’s okay to forget sometimes,” I say, one hand on the small of her back as I lead us towards the dugout where Harriet and Saige are waiting. “I know I do.” 

“No, you don’t,” she says, wiping her nose. 

“Yeah, I do,” I say. “Not consciously, but in the back of my mind. I do. And I know you do, too.” 

She plays with Amaya’s hair and the baby lets her, closing her eyes from the feeling. I can relate - I love when April plays with my hair, too. “Just the concept of him,” she admits very softly. “I don’t know. We shouldn’t talk about it right now. What matters is that Kai is fine. I’m sorry for overreacting.” 

“No need,” I say, stealing a kiss on her cheek. 

“Daddy!” Harriet calls, rattling the chain-link fence. “Game’s gonna start again soon!” 

“Better get back,” I say, handing Skylar to April. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” she says.

“You sure?” 

“Yes,” she says, then sighs. “How come you always have to be better than me?” 

I smirk and lean in again, saying playfully, “You know why.” 

She punches my chest softly, shaking her head. I steal one more kiss between her eyebrows, then turn around to head back to the big girls. I watch Kai for a moment as I walk away, smiling as he plays and tumbles around in the grass. He’s so rambunctious and I wouldn’t have him any other way. He isn’t Samuel and he never will be, but I don’t want him to be. April doesn’t either, I know that. Samuel isn’t here and Kai is - Harriet, Saige, Kai, Skylar and Amaya all are, and what we have is enough. Because with all these Kepner-Avery kids, there’s no way Samuel will ever disappear. He’s as much part of the family as anyone living, and his siblings know about him, along with their own stories. Our kids’ individual stories are as much theirs as they are all of ours. As I look at my family, grown to a size I never imagined, I know everything and everyone are right where they’re supposed to be. 

“Daddy!” I hear, and Harriet and Saige’s voices snap me out of my faraway thoughts. “Come on!” 

I smile to myself, loving my bossy daughters because they came from my bossy wife. “Coming!”


End file.
